


Closer

by asortoflight



Category: Instant Star
Genre: F/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asortoflight/pseuds/asortoflight
Summary: It's been over four years since Jude left for London, and Tommy's life hasn't gone the way he expected. A different take on the post-finale reunion story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summarizing this story was so hard, harder than any story I've ever published, so let me see if I can do a better job here.
> 
> So, in the middle of December I was driving to a rehearsal about an hour away from where I go to school, and I put my Spotify playlist on shuffle as I got onto the highway. The first song that played was "Closer" by The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey. And then the next song was… "Closer" by the Chainsmokers ft. Halsey. By the time I realized my music was on repeat, I was going 75 miles per hour and my phone had fallen off the seat and was on the floor of the car. So I had four choices. Either die trying to retrieve my phone, pull off the highway to change the music and be late for rehearsal, drive for an hour without music (somehow the thought of just turning on the radio instead didn't occur to me?), or… listen to the same song on repeat for an hour. I opted for the last option, and then when I got home I started this story, which I thought was going to be a one-shot. And then instead I wrote ~26,000 words in two weeks. Inspiration punched me in the face and it became impossible to focus on anything except this story until it was finished.
> 
> This is the story I teased in the final author's note of When The Sky Fills With Rain, and it is different than anything else I've written. It's something I've wanted to try for a long time and haven't known how to execute. Every post-finale story I've written (or read) has Jude and Tommy pretending to move on without ever actually moving on. So I was listening to this song and I was thinking… What happens if you have a version of Tommy and Jude who haven't been pining, who have genuinely moved on? What happens if they meet again in that context? I have taken away a root assumption, that being the idea that they're never going to be right for anyone except one another, and this changes their interaction significantly.
> 
> This story is foundationally different than anything I've ever written, but I also really like it. I think it's interesting, if nothing else. If you don't like it, blame The Chainsmokers, because the line "four years, no call" is the entire reason this story exists in the first place.
> 
> So. Here's a thing I wrote in two weeks (and then edited for two months). Please enjoy!
> 
> P.S. More fair warnings: this story is M for a reason …Actually multiple reasons.

If he hadn’t already been four drinks deep when he saw her, maybe things would’ve happened differently. Maybe sober Tom would’ve just said a polite hello-been-awhile-how’s-your-family-congrats-on-the-album-well-anyway-it-was-nice-to-see-you-again-bye and left with his dignity intact. Or, better yet, not said anything at all, just left the bar before she noticed him, never reopened the can of worms that was Jude Harrison. Then again, maybe sober Tom would’ve been home with his wife instead of sitting in a hotel bar at half past midnight drowning himself in whiskey and self-pity.

Sober Tom had been missing for a long time.

As it was, he was way past tipsy when he noticed her. At first, all he saw was a pretty girl in a tight, backless dress. She was leaning back against the bar and talking to a couple of friends, so her face was mostly turned away. He looked, letting his eyes roam surreptitiously over her body, but he did it almost out of habit, not with any real interest. She was certainly attractive, and his type at that, but he was definitely not in the mood to pick up some random girl in a hotel bar. His mind had started to wander back to Erica, whether his soon-to-be ex-wife was out at a bar being ogled by some poor drunk sap, when the girl laughed at something her friend said, and his heart nearly stopped. Because he _knew_ that laugh. He knew those thin shoulders, that long neck, the way she threw her head back when she laughed, even the star ring on her right hand was the same. Somehow it was _Jude_ , here in Toronto. She looked older, looked _gorgeous_ , but it was definitely her. By this point he was gawking brazenly enough to be creepy, and the girl Jude was talking to noticed him, gesturing in his direction and saying something to Jude, who turned. At first she was frowning slightly, but her eyes widened as she recognized him. “Tommy?” she asked with a astonished smile, and the sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver down his spine. She took several steps closer to him, and he _felt_ her as she approached, his body hyper-aware of her in a way he hadn’t experienced for years.

He felt the smile spread across his face. “Jude Harrison,” he said slowly, drawing out each familiar syllable of her name.

“In the flesh,” she replied as she reached him. The sound of her voice resonated through him, a hum joining the buzz of the alcohol in his veins.

Without meaning to, he blurted out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jude hadn’t wanted to come out. She’d had a very long day of rehearsals, and she was exhausted. The thought of putting on makeup and heels didn’t sound appealing at all compared to the idea of a hot bubble bath, but Devika had begged and pleaded and Jude couldn’t say no. Devi was also a recent Canadian ex-pat, working PR at Bermondsey, and they’d become fast friends when Devi had started at the label. Because of how well they worked together, Devi had been the natural choice to accompany Jude’s tour. 

As their stint in Toronto, a few days of rehearsal followed by three nights of performances, approached, Devi had grown increasingly anxious. She was from Calgary, not Toronto, but knew via Facebook that an ex-boyfriend of hers, Shane, was getting his master’s at U of T. Jude had definitely heard about Shane over the two years she’d known Devi, so she knew they’d been pretty serious. They’d dated for years, managing to keep their relationship a secret from her disapproving parents the whole time, but they had eventually been caught. The resulting fallout had been bad enough that it had ended in Devika cutting ties with her parents, and her relationship with Shane hadn’t survived the aftermath. Devi had broken things off and on impulse had moved to London to live with her cousin. In the years since, she’d mended fences with her parents, and the situation had actually worked out very much for the best on the whole. Devi quickly found that she had a natural knack for publicity, quickly climbing the ranks in Bermondsey’s PR department. Jude had never heard Devi express regret over the way things turned out, but she hadn’t had a serious relationship since, and still had a habit of occasionally getting drunk and Facebook stalking Shane.

When Devi admitted she was freaking out about being in Toronto, Jude had tried to reassure her, telling her that no matter how badly things had ended, she had no reason to worry. She pointed out that, in a city of nearly three million, the chances of running into her ex were pretty much literally zero. Even if she went to the university and wandered the campus all day, she’d almost certainly never see him. Devi had nodded mutely, biting her lip, and it had dawned then that _not_ seeing him was exactly what she was worried about. After a thorough internet stalking to determine if he was single, Jude had convinced Devi to message him and invite him for drinks while she was in the city. It had taken a week or so of pushing, and she’d had to actually take Devi’s phone from her hands when she wouldn’t press send on the message, but Shane had replied within the hour that he’d love to meet.

So here they were, in Toronto, and despite her fatigue and her aching feet and how much she honestly needed a night to just lounge in bed watching Netflix, Jude recognized the panic in Devi’s pleading eyes, and she couldn’t say no. The first few times Jude had come back to Toronto to visit, all her brain had been able to do for days was go over and over and over what she’d say to Tommy if she saw him again. She’d worried herself sick over it every time. Even though the worry had always been pointless, since she’d never run into him anyway, she still remembered torturing herself, endlessly imagining worst-case scenarios with the man she’d loved so desperately until she’d broken his heart. If she could assuage some of that for Devi by playing wingwoman for a couple hours, it was worth the hassle of doing her hair on her night off. They had compromised when Jude complained that she was really not up for a night out, agreeing that Shane would meet them in the hotel bar. That way, if things were going well, Shane and Devi could head somewhere else together and Jude could plead exhaustion. Alternatively, if things were going poorly, Devi and Jude could both make a convenient exit with an excuse about their busy schedules.

Thankfully, Devi and Shane seemed to be doing just fine. The smile he’d given when he’d seen her was full of genuine warmth, as far as Jude could tell, and Devi had managed to relax. She was killing it, actually, being charming and witty and looking completely stunning. Jude had secretly worried that her presence, due to her fame more than anything else, would divert Shane’s attention from Devi in a bad way, but that wasn’t the case. After the first few minutes he seemed only to have eyes for Devi. Shane was talking about a bar he liked near the campus and Jude was planning her exit, already thinking of her hotel suite’s deep soaker bathtub, when Shane frowned suddenly. “You don’t have a stalker or anything, do you?” he asked. Devi laughed, thinking he was joking, but Shane shook his head and said, “Seriously, there’s a guy over there staring at us. It’s a little creepy.”

Jude waved a hand, not bothering to look. “Yeah, fans, it happens. He might eventually come up and ask for a picture or an autograph or something, but usually they don’t. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be creepy. Mostly they’re nice people who are just a little star-struck to see a celebrity in the wild.”

Devi looked over. “No, actually, Shane’s right. This guy’s _really_ staring.”

Jude turned in the direction Devi gestured, frowning a little. She wasn’t at all prepared for what she saw. Because it was _Tommy_ , sitting a little ways down the bar and staring at her in awed disbelief. The sight of him sent a shockwave through her. In the span of a second as his eyes locked on hers, she flashed hot and cold and back again, her skin tingling. The whoosh of her blood pulsing in her ears was suddenly all she could hear. “Tommy?” she asked, and her own voice sounded to her like it was coming from very far away. She wasn’t sure if it was just the shock, couldn’t remember if her body had always overreacted like this at the sight of him, but christ, she’d forgotten how goddamn _good looking_ he was. Despite the years that had passed, he really didn’t look much different. He looked every bit as good as he had when she’d last seen him. She felt the pull of him like some sort of gravity and walked over to him.

A smile spread slowly across his face as she approached. “Jude Harrison.” He said her name in a low voice, and she felt heat rise in her in response.

“In the flesh,” she replied with a grin, leaning against the bar as casually as she could and hoping her voice didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She was a little taken aback, but he clarified. “Sorry, I don’t mean… I just… You… London?”

Jude laughed, realizing he was drunker than she’d originally thought. “I… Toronto,” she teased, then explained, “Tour.”

“Ah. Yeah, I guess I knew that, I just didn’t realize that was this week.”

“Rehearsals this week, performances this weekend.”

“Hmm.” His eyes searched her face for a moment with that same piercing gaze he’d always had, those blue eyes she couldn’t ever seem to shake. Eventually he said, “It’s been a while.”

She laughed at the understatement. “You could say that.”

“Over four years,” he murmured with a frown. His eyes met hers again and he said, softly, “You never called.”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “Neither did you.” 

His frown deepened, but they were interrupted but the sound of Devi’s, “Um… Jude?”

Jude turned with a start, suddenly remembering Devi, who had walked up beside her, with Shane following close behind. “Oh! Sorry, guys, uh… this is Tom. Tommy, this is Devika, she’s a friend from Bermondsey, she works in PR. And this is her friend Shane.”

Shane simply gave a nod, but Devi held out a hand, which Tommy shook. “Devika Mehta. Call me Devi.”

“Tom Quincy,” Tommy replied with a smile.

“Oh,” Devi’s eyes widened in recognition, “sure, of course.”

“Uh, Tommy was my producer, at G Major,” Jude explained. “And, uh… yeah.” She shifted awkwardly as Tommy raised his eyebrows at her.

There was a beat of awkward silence, none of them seeming to know what to say, until Shane broke it. “Dev, do you…” he gestured to the door with his head, but trailed off.

“Yeah!” Devi nodded enthusiastically, and turned to Jude. “Shane and I were saying maybe we should get out of here, try another bar, you know? I think he has somewhere in mind.”

“Hotel bar’s not exactly my scene. This place is dead,” Shane added, then his eyes widened a little and he looked at Tommy. “No offense, man.”

Tommy snorted a laugh and turned back to the bar. “None taken,” he muttered as he took another drink.

“Do you want to come?” Devi asked, widening her eyes slightly to signal that Jude should decline.

Jude couldn’t help but smile a little, but she hid it quickly and shook her head. “Nah, I’m exhausted. It’s a crazy week, a lot of rehearsals. I think I’m just gonna crash, but you guys should go ahead.”

“You sure?” Devi asked with feigned disappointment, and Jude couldn’t help but laugh.

“Totally sure. You guys have fun.” She leaned in to give Devi a hug, whispering “Good luck” in her ear, to which Devi replied, “Don’t need it, sister.” She winked at Jude as she pulled back, and Jude had to stifle another laugh. She told Shane it was nice meeting him, and Devi said the same to Tommy, who nodded, and then they were gone, leaving Jude and Tommy sitting nearly alone in the bar.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Tommy said as Jude sat down on the stool next to him.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Ditch your friends for me. Really, you shouldn’t have. I’m not good company.”

Jude frowned a little at the last part, but shook her head. “I didn’t. You’re not the reason. I honestly didn’t want to go. Besides, a good wingwoman has to know her cue to exit. If I’d tagged along Devi would’ve been pissed.”

“Ah. Is that what was happening there? Jude Harrison playing cupid again?”

She smiled. “Devi’s a good friend. She’s like, witty and brilliant and super freakin’ gorgeous, a hell of a catch, but she honestly doesn’t get out much. Normally I don’t push it, but Shane’s someone she knew a long time ago. An ex, actually. They broke up just before she moved to London. I think he’s always sort of been the one who got away, for her. When Dev said she wanted to get back in touch, I offered to help.”

“Sounds… messy.” He glanced sideways at her, raising his eyebrows.

Jude frowned. “Devi can handle herself. Maybe something more will come of it, but probably it’ll just help her remember why she left him in the first place. Not every hookup has to be a big deal, even if it’s with an ex.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Since when are you such a champion of casual sex?”

She could tell by the way he said it that he was trying to get under her skin, needle her into an argument, but she didn’t take the bait, just laughed. “I’m not 16 anymore, Tommy.”

His raised his eyebrows a little, and he turned more fully to her, his eyes traveling over her dress in a way she felt almost as intensely as if he’d been actually touching her. “Clearly.”

Jude swallowed hard, turning away and tossing back the rest of her drink. She flagged down the bartender, who poured her another. It was a dangerous decision, and she knew it. He was married, for christ’s sake. His wedding had been, what, just over two years ago, now? She’d heard about it first from Sadie, then seen it in the tabloids. It had stung a little, brought up the memory of his ring on her finger, of taking it off and placing it in his palm as she said goodbye for good. But she’d shaken that feeling off. 

His wife was a writer, but not particularly famous in her own right, so there weren’t that many pictures of her floating around. In the few Jude had found of the two of them, though, they looked happy together. There was one in particular she remembered seeing deep into her googling, a candid shot taken at some industry party. His wife, a pretty, dark-haired woman with a round face, was laughing at something, and Tommy was smiling softly, looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Maybe it was foolish to think she could still read him, decipher his expressions in a photograph, no less, but Jude couldn’t deny what she saw in the picture. She recognized the expression because it was the look he’d once given _her_ , in their brief scraps of genuine happiness in the midst of all the disaster that had been their love story. _He really loves this woman_. The realization had hit her all at once. After the initial pang of grief, and a day or so of complicated regret, of “what if”s, of nostalgia, Jude had been genuinely happy for him. She’d moved on and so had he. Ultimately they had been wrong for each other, so the knowledge that he’d found someone that was right for him was a comfort more than anything.

But now here he was, drinking alone in a hotel bar, and here _she_ was, lusting after another woman’s husband. This wasn’t like her. She had standards, _morals,_ one of which was that she did not sleep with guys who had girlfriends, and that had to go double for wives. What the fuck was wrong with her? She needed to tread carefully here. She eyed the gold band on Tommy’s left ring finger and finally asked, “What are you doing here, Tom?”

“I live here,” he said dryly.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an ass. I didn’t mean Toronto, I meant _here_ here, in some fancy hotel bar in the middle of the night. Where’s your wife?” She put a pointed emphasis on the word _wife._

Tommy flinched at the question, and muttered, “Ex-wife.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, Tommy, I didn’t… When?”

“Uh, been about a month since she kicked me out. She hired a divorce lawyer last week.”

Her heart sank. “When you said ‘I live here’…”

“Always very perceptive, Harrison, congratulations,” Tommy said sarcastically, taking another drink.

“But if she only hired a lawyer last week then you’re not technically divorced, right?” Jude asked.

“Separated, divorced, it doesn’t matter. She made a point to let me know she’s on Tinder now, so that’s just fucking awesome,” he said bitterly. “It’s over. Maybe not quite legally, yet, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“I’m really sorry, Tommy,” she said softly. He just shrugged. “What happened?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “I happened. Erica was dumb enough to marry me, and I fucked it up, because that’s what I do, I fuck things up. You dodged a bullet, Harrison.”

“Don’t say that,” she sighed. After a moment, she quietly asked, “Did you cheat? Is that what happened?”

His head snapped up. “No,” he practically growled. “No, I did not.”

“Whoa, okay! I just wondered because of… But that’s _good_ , Tommy. If you didn’t cheat then how was it your fault? And how are you so sure it’s hopeless? I mean, have you guys tried counseling or–”

“Jude,” he cut her off, sharply, then spoke more calmly. “Look, I’m not having this conversation with you, okay?”

She sighed again, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay. Yeah, that’s fair. Sorry. I guess it’s really none of my business.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.”

She didn’t like the way he was glaring at her. Her eyes searched his face for a moment, taking in the stubble on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly disheveled look to his hair that she was beginning to doubt was intentional. Her heart sank. This was all the worst parts of the old Tommy, all of the bitterness, the self-loathing, the drinking, the self-destructiveness. Those had always been there, always been a part of him, but she looked at him now and saw none of the passion, none of the fire and the wit that had been the things she loved. He looked tired, worn down, drained. It reminded her suddenly of the Tommy that had looked at her from the inside of a jail cell and told her that he wasn’t good enough for her. She sighed. “You know what? I should go.” She looked at him sadly for another moment before standing up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is “I Can’t Hold Back” by Alexz Johnson and is on my (very long) list of songs I want to perform if I could ever find someone willing to accompany me, since I am sadly not good enough at guitar or piano to play and sing at the same time. Listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj0RTlArv6Q or here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jlzc8qVsirA

Tommy didn’t like the way Jude was looking at him, like she was seeing inside of him. He’d forgotten she could do this, look through him, _into_ him, cut right through any façades he tried to put up. She searched him and she _saw_ him, and he could tell she didn’t like what she was seeing. He suddenly wanted to tell her that two years ago she wouldn’t even have recognized him. He wanted desperately to make her see _that_ Tom, the way he’d been with Erica in the beginning. He wanted to tell her that with Erica he’d broken all his old habits, avoided all the mistakes he’d made with Jude. Erica had asked about his past and he had told her, she’d wanted to know him and he’d let her in, he’d been faithful, he’d been attentive, he’d been committed. He loved Erica in a healthier way than he’d ever been able to love Jude. He wanted to take Jude back in time two years, have her meet him on his wedding day, make her believe he’d moved on, been better. She was looking at him now with such _pity,_ and he wanted to scream at her that this wasn’t him.

Except, well, this _was_ him. He was a 30-year-old man on the verge of his second divorce slowly drinking himself to death night after night in a hotel bar. He was _exactly_ the man Jude was seeing.

Jude sighed. “You know what? I should go.”

His heart sank. He wanted desperately for her to stay, but he couldn’t quite figure out what his true motives were. He _wanted_ her, that much was obvious. Ever since she’d walked up to him he’d been imagining the way her skin would feel under his fingers, her lips on his, her body pressed against him… But did he want her because she was beautiful, because of the way she looked in her dress? Was it because he had once loved her so much? Or was it something else? Did he think that by sleeping with her he could somehow get some piece of himself back? Would he be using her? Would that be unfair?

These thoughts were a half-formed jumble in his mind, but when she stood to leave, he caught her wrist without even thinking. “Jude, wait.” She turned back to him and he gave her a tender, pleading look, the one he knew she’d never been able to resist. “Don’t go,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.” He shifted his grip to grab her fingers, trailing his fingers along the inside of her wrist as he did, and he could see her react to the touch, goosebumps rising on her arm and her breath catching slightly. She pulled her hand out of his, but didn’t make a move to leave, so he said, “We should talk about something else. Tell me about you, how are you doing?” He smiled, speaking with genuine interest but a touch more enthusiasm than he actually felt, trying to prove to her that there was still more to him than a bitter shell.

“I’m… good, I guess.” She sat back down on the stool next to him. “I’m really good, actually. I mean, just career-wise, these last few years have been kind of amazing.”

“So I’ve heard. You have a whole room devoted to your awards yet?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Just a shelf, at the moment. Maybe I’ll work my way up to a display case.”

“Have you made a spot for the Grammy?”

“Don’t jinx it!” she cried. “Tommy!” He rolled his eyes and she shook her head. “Honestly, the fact that the last album was even nominated… Seriously such an honor. And a _shock_ , oh my God, I just… even being there was such an insane experience. All the nominees were so amazing, in every category.”

“Would you have thanked me in your acceptance speech?”

He meant it as a joke, but her eves widened, and she spoke with surprising sincerity as she said, “Absolutely, Tommy. Without you, I’d… None of the music I’ve made would’ve been possible without everything you taught me. Especially as producer, but as a writer, too, as a musician… I owe you so much. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that enough.” She sighed and looked away. “I thought about calling, after I found out about the Grammy nom, but I guess I didn’t really know… how? I didn’t know what I would say, after two years.”

“It’s okay, girl,” he reassured her. “I get it. I’d stopped expecting a call long before that point. You made a clean break, and maybe in the end that was better. But you know what I would’ve said if you had called?” She looked back up at him, and he leaned in ever-so-slightly closer, saying in a low voice, “I am so incredibly proud of you, Jude. Your albums, both of them, but especially this new one, you… You blew me away. You are a phenomenal musician, and I’m just happy that I got to play a role in that.” 

Her breath had quickened, and her voice came out a little choked when she said, “Thank you, Tommy.”

He could sense her trepidation, but she was also leaning in, not away, so he took a chance, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Jude,” he said softly, “have I told you how amazing you look tonight?”

Her lips parted, her eyes darkening, and he thought maybe he was going to be able to kiss her, but then she pulled away suddenly, turning back toward the bar and taking a huge gulp of her drink. Her hands, he noticed with some satisfaction, shook a little as she did. “How about you?” she asked quickly, her voice a little higher than normal. “What have you been doing since you left G Major?” She turned back to him and frowned a little. “Actually, why _did_ you leave G Major?” He sighed, and she asked quietly, “Was it because of me?”

“No,” he said, much more harshly than he’d meant to. It was a question he’d had to answer a lot when he’d first left, and apparently it was still a sore spot.

Jude held up her hands. “Okay, God, I just wondered.” 

He winced. “Sorry, uh…” He sighed again. “Maybe you had been one of the things holding me there over the years, but the truth is that I needed a change. I’d been pretty much working for Darius for half my life. I left as soon as D let me out of my contract, took a break from the music and just traveled for a while.”

“Did you miss it?”

He shrugged. “Not at first.” The truth was, after Jude left it had become hard to work without thinking of her, feeling her influence, missing her. Without him realizing, music had become something he associated irrevocably with Jude. He’d needed a break from that as much as anything else. He looked away and was silent for a moment, taking another drink before saying, softly. “It was… different, with you gone.”

“When I first got to London it was hard to write,” Jude admitted quietly, and he looked back at her. “Every time I sat down to work on something, I couldn’t help but think of you. What you’d think, what you’d suggest… So I actually tried to quit writing about you, cold turkey. I wouldn’t let myself write down lyrics I thought of if they were about you.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I didn’t finish a song for almost a month. I had to relax the rule because Nicola was getting seriously antsy about singles. Anyway, it was all a long process, moving on, growing up. It’s been so hard, and so worth it.” She looked back at him, biting her lip. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you to find that.”

He shook his head. “You were 18, Jude. I tried to convince myself that didn’t matter, but it always mattered. I was naïve, about us. You made the right choice.”

“I’m still sorry. I did love you, Tommy, I did want that, everything you wanted. I did–”

“Harrison,” he cut her off, firmly. “Don’t. It’s not like I’ve been fucking pining for you or anything, okay? You were not the be-all-end-all for me. Jesus, it’s been four years, I moved on.”

Jude pursed her lips, and he could tell that his words had hurt her. “That’s not what I meant, Quincy. I was just trying to apologize.” They were silent for a long, awkward moment before Jude said, “How’d you meet your wife?”

He felt a pang of sorrow at the question, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could still picture it so clearly, Erica on the day they met, grinning at him with her windswept hair and her cheeks pink from the cold January air. 

It had been only his second day back in Toronto after over six months abroad. He’d been sitting outside a café he’d frequented for years, feeling strange and lost and out of place, when he’d heard a camera shutter click next to him. He turned with a scowl, expecting paparazzi, to see a woman in a long black coat and a pink hat looking down at the screen of her DSLR camera. She didn’t really look like paparazzi, and anyway, he’d been out of the tabloids for a long time, so he assumed she was a fan, despite the fancy camera. “I don’t sign autographs,” he’d snapped gruffly, and she’d looked up at him with a laugh.

“Sorry,” she replied, pushing her hair out of her eyes, which were a startlingly bright green. “I didn’t mean to be creepy. I usually don’t take pictures of strangers without permission, but something about the look on your face, and the way the light… I didn’t think, I just took the picture. I’ll delete it if you want.” He was confused for another moment before realizing she didn’t know who she was, had taken the picture without knowing he had any kind of fame. “Would you like to see it?” she asked, and he shrugged. She walked over to the table and turned the screen of her camera towards him. He’d barely recognized himself in her photo. He was frowning intently into space, his hand curled around the mug. She’d captured the steam from the coffee and the fog of his breath in the cold, and something else, too, something in his face, something deeper. He’d looked up at her in surprise. She’d seemed flustered as she pulled her camera back, saying quickly, “I know the black and white’s a little pretentious. Everyone puts their shit in black and white these days and calls it art, but I feel like the winter light lends itself… Anyway. Sorry, I can delete it if you want.”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s really good, it’s got great… uh…” he’d trailed off when he realized he had no clue what he was trying to say, and a grin had slowly spread across Erica’s face as he’d tried to find a word. Eventually he admitted, “I know nothing about photography,” and she laughed.

“That’s okay. To be honest, I don’t either, really. It’s a hobby.” She returned the strap of the camera to her neck, and held out a hand, which he shook. “Erica Bennet.”

He’d replied with only “Tom,” and she’d raised an eyebrow, so he’d added, without thinking, “Dutois.” 

“Nice to meet you.”

He had sensed her about to leave as she dropped his hand, but something about her smile made him want to keep her there, so he asked, “So, Erica, what do you do when you’re not talking stalker photos of strangers?”

He’d been rewarded with another laugh, and she sat down next to him. “I’m a writer. A novelist.” He raised his eyebrows, impressed, and she added, “Okay so technically I’ve been rejected by like 15 agents and I work a soul-sucking office job, but hey, my mom tells everyone she meets that I’m the next JK Rowling, so at least I’ve got that going for me.” He had laughed, and been almost surprised at the sound coming from his own throat. How long had it been since he’d really laughed? Her smile widened, and she asked, “What about you? What do you do when you’re not sitting in the cold staring broodingly into a cup of coffee?”

He felt like he should’ve been offended, he _wanted_ to be offended, but she was grinning at him, and he found another laugh bubbling up instead, so he answered her. “I’m a musician. And a producer, actually. Or, well, I was. I took some time off and I’ve been traveling for the last six months, I just got back a few days ago. So, uh, mostly I guess I’ve been working full-time on my brooding stare.”

“Well it’s really coming along, congratulations!”

He’d rolled his eyes, but had been unable to stop his smile. They’d talked for nearly an hour, his forgotten espresso getting cold, about her novels and about music and places they’d been and places they wanted to go some day. After she’d left, all he could think about was seeing her again. How long had it been since he’d been so excited about something? How long since someone made him feel the way Erica did? Had anyone?

There was a lump in his throat and a pain in his chest, and he was gripping his glass hard enough that his knuckles had turned white. How had they gotten from that place to here? How had he lost her? 

Jude’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “Tommy?” she asked quietly, sounding worried.

She asked about his wife more for her own benefit than anything else, to remind herself that he belonged to another woman now, and to divert the conversation from their past relationship and breakup. She didn’t expect he’d be thrilled at the question, but she hadn’t expected the pain in his expression, so sudden and strong. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gripping his glass so hard she worried he’d break it. “Tommy?” she asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his grip relaxing.

He shook his head. “Let’s not talk about her.” He smiled a little as he said it, leaning closer and giving her that smouldering look she could tell was meant to make her forget anything and everything but him, make her melt and lose herself in his eyes. It might have worked, but she was distracted by the sadness she still saw there. 

“Tommy…” she started again.

“Play me something,” he said suddenly.

“What?” she asked, surprised. He turned, gesturing to a shiny black baby grand in the corner of the bar. “I don’t think we’re allowed,” she protested with a laugh.

He smirked at her. “Come on, Harrison, live a little.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t resist as he pulled her up from the stool, taking her hand and leading her to the piano. The fallboard was clamped and locked closed over the keys. “See?” she said.

“You underestimate me.” He leaned in to her for just a second as he said it, close enough so she could see each of his eyelashes and smell the alcohol on his breath. He pulled away with a grin, and she tried to breathe again. “Adam,” he sing-songed, addressing the bartender. The sudden playfulness made her smile, and she didn’t think too hard about how much time he must spend in this bar to know the bartender’s name.

“Can I help you, Mr. Quincy?” the bartender asked with a sigh as Tommy walked up to the bar.

“I know you have the keys to this piano back there.”

He shook his head. “That’s not for use by guests, I’m sorry.”

“Come on, Adam. The place is empty, does it really matter?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Quincy, it’s really–”

“Do you know who she is?” Tommy cut him off, turning and gesturing to Jude.

“Tommy!” Jude protested.

“Seriously,” Tommy said, still talking to Adam, “do you know who this is?”

“Tommy…” she said in a warning tone, walking up to the bar.

“Yes, I do,” Adam answered. He gave Jude a smile. “I’m a big fan, actually.” He looked back at Tommy. “But seriously, I can’t let you play that piano. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jude reassured him, then rolled her eyes at Tommy. “Come on, Tommy.”

Tommy didn’t back down. “Do you know how much Jude Harrison concert tickets are going for these days? Especially on resale?” He turned to look at her. “Do you?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “A lot. Way too much.”

Tommy turned back to the bartender. “She’s being modest, she’s incredible. Worth every penny. And you’d be getting to hear her for free.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Give it a rest, Tom.” 

But Adam seemed to be wavering. “I could get in trouble…”

“I’ll take 100% of the blame if it comes to that,” Tommy insisted. “Come on, man. It’s not like we’re random people off the street. You know _she’s_ got the talent, and I taught her everything she knows.”

“Did not!” Jude protested with another laugh.

“Come on,” Tommy said again to Adam. “For me. No, for Jude.”

Adam hesitated a moment longer before sighing. “Wait here.”

“Aha! Thank you,” Tommy said with a grin.

“This is a one time thing!” Adam called over his shoulder as he went into a back room.

“You’re gonna get some poor bartender in trouble, Tom!” Jude scolded as the bartender left.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I am not. Besides, how long has it been since you just played something for fun? No audience, no pressure…”

She pretended to think about it. “I guess… Hmm… This morning before rehearsal started?” She grinned at him and he pursed his lips for a second.

“Fine. But how long has it been since we played something together?”

His face was close to hers again. She bit her lip, then admitted, “Too long.” He smiled, that slow smile that made the muscles clench in her belly. Adam returned with the key, then, and Tommy turned away to look at him. Jude couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Please be careful,” Adam said with a sigh as he unlocked and removed the clamp.

“Thank you,” Jude said to him as Tommy lifted and propped the lid. Adam nodded and went back to the bar. Tommy’s fingers danced over the keys for a moment, playing a series of fills. She felt the smile spring to her face as he played. She’d forgotten how good he was, and he seemed so at ease behind the keyboard. She suddenly recognized the chords he was playing as the opening to “Piano Man” by Billy Joel, and she laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Stop it!”

He stopped playing, looking at her with feigned offense. “What? You have a problem with the great Billy Joel?”

“We did not convince some poor guy to risk his job so you could ironically play Piano Man!”

Tommy started playing again, at the chorus this time, belting out, “Sing us a song, you’re the piano–” He cut off with a laugh as she shoved him again, harder, shushing him. “Fine, Harrison,” he said when he righted himself. “Alternate suggestions?”

“Scoot over,” she commanded as she slipped out of her heels. Tommy shifted, leaving her just enough room so that she was still sitting close to him, their legs and shoulders pressed against each other. She thought about shoving him over another few inches, but found that she enjoyed the contact too much. This was not good, crossing these lines, but he was being playful and cocky and she was drunk and he looked so goddamn _good_ , even his wedding band and the sadness lurking behind his eyes intrigued her more than they pushed her away. She found herself unable to stop. She played a couple of random chords, feeling the smooth keys under her fingers for a moment, then she nodded. “Yeah, okay. I have a song.”

“Jude Harrison original?” he asked with a grin.

She nodded again. “A newish one. Not even on the album.”

“Consider me intrigued,” he murmured, close to her ear.

He was making it impossible to concentrate, so she pushed him a little and said, “Give me some room, Quincy.” He obliged, moving just enough so that they were no longer touching. She wondered if that wasn’t actually _more_ distracting, having him almost but not quite touching her, but she took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. She started to play.

 

 _On the move, these old steel tracks_  
_Gonna make an escape and I'm never gonna come back_  
_My heart can't take another heartache_  
_I wouldn't swear on my grandma’s grave I couldn't do that_

 

_I know that I'm talking way too much  
'Cause baby I'm helpless in your touch _

 

She couldn’t help it, her voice went breathy on the word _helpless,_ making it a sigh.

 

 _When my heart is skips and my soul gets lit_  
_And my stomach turns like a fighters fist_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_It's killing killing all the things I could say_  
_But my tongue gets tied when you're in the way_  
_And I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_

 

The song hadn’t been about him when she wrote it, had actually been inspired by another guy, a completely different relationship, but now she found it fitting all too well. She poured the desperation and the frustration and the need into the chorus. Her gaze was focused on the keyboard, but she could feel his eyes on her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. _Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, I can’t…_

 

 _What's there to do?_  
_You're breaking through_  
_And like all good things God forbid I take a chance on you_  
_I told myself a thousand times_  
_Make him look you in the eye so you know you shouldn't waste your time_

 

She tried to remember the bitterness in his voice earlier, the way he’d glared at her, the pain in his expression when she’d asked about how he’d met his wife, but all she could think of was his smirk and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes and his hands on her body.

 

_Forgive me I'm nervous it's all so new  
I shouldn't let you close but I know it's what you're here to do _

 

 _When my heart is skips and my soul gets lit_  
_And my stomach turns like a fighters fist_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_It's killing killing all the things I could say_  
_But my tongue gets tied when you're in the way_  
_And I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_

 

_Before it all falls down upon you  
You give in 'cause you know you have to_

 

As she sang the final chorus, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. An hour ago she’d made the choice to stay, and now she was on a collision course with him that was going to end with her giving in. She wasn’t going to be able to stop herself.

 

 _When my heart is skips and my soul gets lit_  
_And my stomach turns like a fighters fist_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_It's killing killing all the things I could say_  
_But my tongue gets tied when you're in the way_  
_And I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_  
_I can't hold back, forgive me I can't_

 

There was a moment of silence after she finished playing, and she dared to turn to him, to meet his eyes. The look in them was real astonishment. He breathed, “You’re amazing,” and it wasn’t feigned, wasn’t a line. He wasn’t flirting or trying to seduce her, and that made it all the more impossible to tear her eyes away from his.

Applause from Adam behind the bar broke the spell, then, and they pulled apart, both looking back at him. “Thanks,” Jude called over her shoulder.

“It’s last call, guys, sorry. We close down at two. I’m gonna need to lock that back up now, too, but you were great, that was really awesome.”

“Is it really 2 AM?” Jude asked in surprise. Tommy leaned in, reaching over to show her his watch, which showed it was just past 1:50. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Tommy raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head. “I was gonna go to bed early tonight.”

He laughed. “The ship has sailed on that one, Harrison. Might as well stay up all night, now.”

They both stood up from the piano bench as Adam came back over. Jude closed the lid as he clamped the fallboard again. “Thank you for doing that,” Jude said again.

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for playing.”

“Is anyone going to thank me for the idea?” Tommy asked incredulously.

“No,” Jude answered, matter-of-factly, looking over her shoulder at him. She heard Adam chuckle as he walked away to put the keys back.

Tommy was looking at her with feigned hurt. “You are very rude, Harrison.”

She turned fully to him with a laugh. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t resist the urge to reach out, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

As she’d secretly hoped he would, he put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. “Make it up to me?” he said in a low voice.

She turned her face away, looking down slightly, trying to lessen the impact of the intensity of his gaze. “Tommy…”

He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him, leaning in close enough that his nose nearly brushed her cheek. “Jude…” he whispered. Her eyelids fluttered shut without her meaning them to. He moved his hand to the side of her face and she could feel his breath. Just before their lips touched, Adam made a noise from behind the bar, and the clinking of glasses snapped her back to her senses. She pulled away abruptly and fully enough that Tommy actually stumbled a little, though he recovered quickly and pretended nothing had happened. Jude walked quickly to the bar, Tommy following behind.

The bartender had definitely noticed their almost-kissing, there was no way he could have missed it with them the only other people in the place, and he probably noticed the flush that had crept up Jude’s chest and neck too, but he didn’t make any acknowledgement of either. “Anything else I can get you?” he asked them both.

Tommy declined and picked up his glass, which still had some left. Jude, whose glass was empty, and whose heart was still pounding, her whole body feeling like it was vibrating, hesitated a second and then ordered a shot of tequila, enjoying the look of surprise on Tommy’s face when she said it. She took the shot, shuddering involuntarily at the taste. “God I hate tequila,” she laughed, turning to Tommy as Adam took their empty glasses.

Tommy shook his head with a laugh. “So you went to London and came back crazy, I see.”

She thought about saying _I haven’t come back_ , but she didn’t. Instead she said, “Okay, Tommy Q, whatever. One shot of tequila does not equal crazy.”

He smirked. “I’ve seen the tabloids, Harrison.”

“All lies,” she insisted with a laugh. “You of all people know how it is. Christ, you get caught dancing on _one_ table and suddenly they’re calling you a party girl for the rest of time. It’s not like I flashed anyone or anything… That time.”

“Have you actually?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She smiled and shook her head. “Nah. That’s a little over the top. Besides, I don’t need my boobs all over the internet. People saw more than enough after the whole Karma nip slip fiasco anyway. Actually, Kyle and Wally and I did moon passing trucks out of a tour bus window once, but that was ages ago.” He looked incredulous, and she shrugged. “Spied dared us.”

He laughed again. “He would.”

She shook her head with a smile. “I miss SME.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Simpler times.”

“Were they?” His voice was soft and serious again, an eyebrow arched.

She bit her lip, looking at him for a long moment, then said, “You and me… Simple was never in our vocabulary.” _Still isn’t, obviously_ , she thought as the look in his eyes made goosebumps rise on her arms again. Adam cleared his throat from next to her, then, and she looked at him in surprise, having forgotten he was there. He apologized and gestured with the cloth in his hand he was using to clean the bar. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “We’ll get out of your hair.” She grabbed her purse, putting it over her shoulder, and walked back to the piano to pick up her discarded shoes where they were still sitting next to the bench.

As she straightened up, she felt Tommy behind her. “Jude.” He breathed her name as he put his hands on her hips, pulling her against him. She didn’t object as he pressed his lips to her neck, murmuring, “Stop pretending you don’t want this too.”

“I can’t…” she breathed, even as her head lolled to the side, giving his mouth access to more of her neck. “We shouldn’t…”

“Jude,” he whispered again. “I _know_ you want me too.”

She gave a sigh that was almost a whimper as he kissed her neck again, pulling her tighter against him, his hands hot through her dress as he pressed them against her stomach. “Tommy,” she breathed, a plea, “Tommy, you’re married, you’re married, I can’t…”

He suddenly spun her around to look at him. Her shoes dropped from her fingers with a clatter she barely noticed. His hands on her lower back were pressing her close again, his expression fierce. “I. Am. _Separated,_ Jude,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

She shook her head. “That’s a technicality, you’re still–”

“Stop,” he cut her off, putting a hand on the side of her face. “She is seeing other people, okay? _She_ told _me_ she wanted to see other people. It would not be cheating. We are _over_.”

Jude turned her head away, closing her eyes. “I can’t… Tommy…”

“Would it help if I told you you wouldn’t be the first?” He leaned in, murmuring in her ear, “Although you are by far the most beautiful.”

She laughed at that, breathlessly, opening her eyes again and pulling back far enough to look at him, shaking her head. “Fuck you, Tom.”

There was something under the desire in his expression, something dark and desperate and sad she knew should make her stop him, but the need in his eyes made her whole body ache. He put his hand on the side of her face again, shutting his eyes and leaning in close enough so that their lips were inches apart. “Please,” he breathed. “Please, Jude.” 

She had never heard him beg. He’d asked, suggested, very occasionally he’d commanded, but _never_ had she heard him beg, and that was what undid her. She brought a hand up to the back of his head and kissed him, slow and deep and fierce, his fingers tangling in her hair. When she broke the kiss, he was smiling triumphantly, like he’d won her, so she slid a hand down between their bodies, pressing a hand against his crotch. She grabbed him, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that he gave a little grunt, and leaned in close. “Tommy,” she murmured sweetly, “if you are lying to me and I find out you’re about to make me your mistress, I will cut. It. Off.” She articulated each syllable carefully.

He pulled back and a hundred emotions crossed his face in the span of a second—shock, indignation, anger, lust—but finally he laughed as she removed her hand, moving it back up to his neck. “You have gotten much scarier since I last saw you.”

She smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He leaned in again so his lips nearly brushed her ear and whispered, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” She breathed the word in his ear, softly hissing the s. He pulled back and his mouth crashed down on hers again, kissing her harder this time. She kissed him back, but when his hand pushed up the back of her skirt, she pulled away with a laugh. “Whoa! Not _here_ , Tom, Jesus.”

He gave a little “hmph”, but pulled back. “Mine or yours?”

“What floor?”

“19”

She smirked. “22.”

“Lead the way, Harrison.”

She picked up her heels and headed out of the bar and across the lobby. She didn’t check to see if he was following. When he got to the elevators and pushed the button, he was behind her in a few seconds, kissing her shoulder, and she turned around in his embrace, putting her arms around his neck.

He reached up a hand, stroking her cheek with her fingers. “You look so unbelievably gorgeous tonight,” he murmured.

She shivered at the touch, and smiled. “You look… the same as ever.” He frowned a little, and she shook her head. “It’s a compliment. You look as good as I remember.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but the elevator doors opened then and they stumbled in. Before the doors had even closed, he had her pressed up against the wall, one hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her, the other pushing up the hem of her dress. The little handrail dug into her lower back as he pressed his hips against hers. It reminded her vaguely of the early days of their relationship, so long ago, when everything was new and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. There had been the time they got caught, in the men’s room of that restaurant, but there had been other times too, in bathrooms and elevators and the empty Studio C. She had been so young and he had been intoxicating, she’d been drunk on the bliss of being with him after so many years of wanting it. What did it mean that she was feeling this way again? Was it just residual? Was it all physical? She couldn’t sort out anything that was going on in her head, not with all of the alcohol in her brain and his body pressed against hers.

Everything was a bit of a blur, after that, because maybe that last shot had been a mistake. They didn’t fully untangle as they stumbled down the short hallway and practically fell into Jude’s suite. Clothes flew off in a flurry, her fingers clumsy with his belt buckle, him struggling a little with the zipper of her dress. The look on his face when she slid her dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor made her skin tingle with electricity. As she pulled him to the bedroom and they crashed down on the large hotel bed, she kept getting flashes of deja vu, of familiarity, of memory. Why had she left him? She found herself suddenly unable to remember. Had she been insane? To leave this body, these hands, that mouth… that mouth… _Fuck_. She was 18 again under his touch, experiencing all of this intensity for the first time. It had been ages, but somehow he still seemed to know her body, some kind of muscle memory meaning he knew exactly where and how to touch her. Or maybe he was just that good, famous cassanova Quincy. He was gentle at first, but she was rough, fingernails peeling skin from his back as she tried to pull him closer, closer, deeper… She cried out his name and it was strange and surreal to feel the word on her lips.

Her head cleared a little as she untangled herself from him and lay back on the bed, the world slowly stopping some of its spinning as the orgasm and the adrenaline faded. Some kind of habit made her want to curl into his side and nuzzle his chest, fall asleep nestled in his arms, but she fought the impulse, instead giving him a short kiss before standing up on still-shaky legs and heading for the bathroom. 

After using the toilet and washing her hands, Jude stared at her reflection in the large mirror for a long time. She looked flushed, bright red splotches standing out on her pale cheeks and chest, her lips were swollen, and there was a large red spot on the side of her neck that she could tell was going to be a hell of a hickey. “Damn,” she muttered, rubbing at the mark. She had to perform, and most of her stage outfits wouldn’t cover this up. The makeup people were going to kill her. She pulled back a little and looked into her own wide eyes. _What do you feel?_ she thought to herself. _What is it you feel for him?_ She didn’t think she still loved him. It had honestly been a long time since she’d really thought of him at all, except occasionally when his advice would come to her mind in the studio, or with something like the small similarities to Devi’s situation with Shane. She’d moved on, had truly loved and lost more than once since him. He wasn’t her one that got away, he was just her first love, bittersweet and complicated and beautiful, but _over_. And yet, here she was, him in her bed, wedding ring and all. She’d run into him and even after four years had still been helpless to resist. Was it all physical? Could she believe it meant nothing more? When had anything with Tommy ever meant nothing? She sighed, looking into her own eyes for a moment longer before slipping one of the hotel’s terrycloth robes on and walking back out.

Tommy was staring up at the ceiling and trying to ignore the deep, hollow ache in his chest. He tried so hard not to think of Erica, not to miss her, but she was there all the same. Despite what he’d implied to Jude, there had only been one other woman in the three weeks since Erica had accidentally-on-purpose let it slip to him that she had a date with a guy she met on Tinder, and this had happened then too. The difference was that then he’d expected it, expected to feel sad and wrong and to miss his wife after some random one night stand. He’d picked up that girl out of self-loathing and masochism more than anything else, because he’d _known_ it would hurt. 

But even with Jude? Even with the woman he’d been convinced was the love of his life long before he’d ever met Erica? He thought of Jude’s smile and her voice and her body and he _felt_ something. Something real. But no matter what he felt for her, here he was anyway, feeling like a piece of him was missing, and knowing Jude wasn’t that piece.

He heard the bathroom door open and looked over as Jude came out. “Hey,” he said softly, smiling at her.

“Hey.” There was something off in her smile.

“You okay?” he asked, rolling onto his side and raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh…” she looked a little uncomfortable. “I should ask, though, are you… uh, clean?”

“What?” he asked, incredulous.

She raised her eyebrows. “Like… STDs? Have you been tested recently? Did you use protection with the other women you’ve been with since your wife?” He continued to give her an incredulous look, and she frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Tommy. We just had sex, it’s a legitimate question. Actually, I should’ve asked it an hour ago.”

He sighed and rolled over onto his back again, shutting his eyes. “Yes. Yes I’ve been tested, yes I use condoms.” It _was_ , of course, a legitimate question, and one she’d never asked before. He had been clean, of course, had even gotten tested again to make sure just before her 18th birthday, as soon as it seemed like sex with Jude might be a possibility. He had definitely been kind of a player back in the day, but he wasn’t irresponsible. More than that, he wouldn’t have ever wanted to put Jude at risk. But she had never asked, then. Maybe she hadn’t known that it was something she should ask, or maybe she’d just trusted him enough not to. _My innocent girl,_ he mused. Even as he thought that, he recognized how creepy it was, and he pushed the thought away.

“Okay, good. Me too. I figured, I just thought I should ask.” She smiled at him as she headed for the other side of the bed. She sat on the edge and said, “I’m gonna order room service, I think. I drank too much and didn’t eat enough. You want anything? Label’s paying.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answered. After she ordered and hung up the phone, Jude lay back on the bed with a sigh, closing her eyes. “You regretting that shot?” Tommy asked in a teasing voice, propping himself up on his elbow to look at her.

“Ask me in the morning,” she murmured, and he smiled.

After another moment he sat up and asked, “When you said you wanted that rockstar life you really meant it, huh?” 

She opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised, and he gestured around at the lavish suite. “Oh.” She looked a little uncomfortable. “I guess so? This tour especially has been kinda crazy. Label’s got deep pockets for me since the Grammy nods, I guess. They’re not all this nice, but yeah. Five star hotels, going everywhere in limos, mobs of adoring fans, it’s… Yeah, I don’t know.”

“It’s the big show,” he said with a little smile. “I’m proud of you, Harrison.”

She smiled, and he could see her flush a little at the compliment. “Thank you. That actually does mean a lot.”

“Plus, you don’t seem to have let it go to your head, which is saying something. Believe me, I know from experience.”

She snorted a laugh. “We don’t all have egos the size of yours, Tommy Q.”

“Hey!” he protested with a frown.

She laughed again, and sat up. “Sorry. I’ll admit, some of the cockiness is… warranted.” He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly and she bit her lip before saying, “I wondered if I’d imagined it, you know? Revised the memories. Or if it was just because I didn’t have anything to compare it to at the time. But no, you are actually that good.”

He smirked. “Can’t believe you ever doubted it, Harrison.”

She rolled her eyes, but giggled as he moved closer to her, pushing her back onto the bed as he kissed her, slipping a hand inside her robe. After a moment, she broke the kiss, turning to look at the clock. She sighed as she looked back at him. “You should go,” she said softly, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“What?” he asked, surprised and a little insulted.

She sat up, forcing him to pull back. “I’m exhausted, Tommy. I’m gonna eat and then I _really_ need to sleep. Seriously, I have a huge day tomorrow. So this has been really great,” at this she reached out and touched his cheek again, “but really, you need to go. Sorry.”

He was surprised at how insulted he was by her words. It wasn’t like he’d planned to stay the night, but for some reason he’d apparently assumed Jude would want him to. He hadn’t really thought about it, but now that he did, he realized his expected scenario had Jude curled up with him in bed and protesting when he said he had to go. It wasn’t like he’d expected tears or anything, hadn’t expected her to beg him to stay with her, but he definitely hadn’t expected to be kicked out.

She must’ve read his thoughts in his face, because she sighed. “Please don’t take it personally, Tommy. It’s not that I didn’t have an amazing time tonight. I’d love if we had more time, but seriously, it’s almost 3 AM and I have a rehearsal at 10.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, suddenly worried he was coming off as needy, “yeah, of course. Sorry, I was just surprised. Didn’t really realize how late it was.”

“Okay.” She smiled. She leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I’m really glad I ran into you,” she murmured before pulling back.

He collected his clothes and got re-dressed. A feeling of dread mounted in him as he headed for the door. Maybe Jude wasn’t the missing piece of his breaking heart, but the feeling of her in his arms did push away thoughts of Erica, at least for a little while. Leaving meant he was going back to that loneliness. Jude had followed him to the door, and he pulled her in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. He could feel her melt into his embrace as he did, and wondered what it was she felt for him. When they broke apart, he breathed, “I need to see you again.” She hesitated, but he stroked her cheek with his fingertips and murmured her name, and she finally nodded.

“I should be done around 9 tomorrow night, if you want to come here. Message me?”

He smiled. “Will do.” He leaned down to give her one last kiss. “Goodnight, girl,” he whispered before finally pulling away and heading out the door. As he walked down the hall to the elevators, he tried to hold onto the feeling of her lips for as long as he could before that hollow ache set in again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jude woke up sore and exhausted to her phone alarm and a pounding in her head. She groaned, but forced herself to stretch and then get up. She did her makeup, doing her best to cover up the dark circles under her eyes and the purple-red spot on her neck. She flushed a little at the memory. It was all a bit of a blur, and it felt a little like a dream. Had she actually slept with her married ex-boyfriend? She thought of his repeated insistence that he was separated, that it wasn’t cheating. Despite what she knew about Tommy’s philandering past, she believed him about this. There had been such genuine pain in his eyes when she’d asked about his wife, and he’d reacted so fiercely when she’d asked if he’d been unfaithful. There was still something that bothered her about it, though. The fact that he still wore his wedding ring, for one thing. If he’d had it on and had discreetly taken it off some time after running into her, then she’d suspect him of cheating on his wife, a woman he must not really love. But to leave the ring on, even as he tried to seduce her? Even if they were separated, even if they were technically seeing other people, that ring on his finger had to mean he wasn’t over his wife. God, what a mess. Typical Jude and Tommy, nothing ever simple.

She thought of his “I need to see you again” and bit her lip. Despite the complications, the sex had been amazing. Confusing, but amazing. Sober and in the light of day, she was pretty sure she wasn’t still in love with him. Her feelings for him last night had been strong, but they had been mostly physical. On top of that, he intrigued her. His sadness and his wedding ring and four years of his life that she’d missed made her want to see him again, to piece together more of the puzzle that was Tommy Quincy. She didn’t need to be in love with him to want to know more about him. They had shared something, years ago. He had shared parts of himself with her she knew he’d kept from other people. That wasn’t nothing, wasn’t something she could just brush off. Being over him didn’t mean she’d stopped caring, and the desire to know him again, even if only a little bit, was almost as strong as the physical desire.

When she got to the concert venue for rehearsal, she was greeted by Devi. “You look exhausted,” Devi observed when Jude walked in.

“That bad?” Jude asked self-consciously, sitting down in the chair beside her.

“I mean, you _look_ fine, but you walked in with a big yawn and a bigger coffee. I know why _I’m_ mainlining caffeine this morning, but why are you? I take it you didn’t go up to bed after we left?”

“Not exactly,” she muttered, then said, “But wait, tell me about Shane. What happened?”

She shrugged. “We went to some club for like half an hour, made out on the dance floor, and then he was all, ‘Let’s get out of here,’ so we went back to his place.”

“You spent the night?”

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t like he asked me to stay over, but he fell asleep and I was kinda plastered so I figured it was easier to stay. He was a gentleman about it, though, this morning. I showered at his place and he gave me breakfast. Not some big meal or anything, but coffee and cereal, anyway. Then he drove me back to the hotel so I could get changed to come here.” She took a drink of her coffee and didn’t continue.

“So?” Jude prompted. “Was it… good? Like, are you glad you did it, got back in touch with him?”

Devi seemed to think for a moment. “It was… not bad. Like, I mean, the sex was fine, and he was really sweet. But I don’t know. It was kind of weird. It felt a lot different, being with him. Not just the sex, but like, in general. Before, it was like, a love thing, you know? This was… not that. I’m just so different from the person I was when we were together. I wouldn’t know how to be that person again. He seems really different too. So I guess I am glad, because I got some kind of closure, or whatever. Honestly, this is a way better outcome than if it had been amazing and I’d realized I was still in love with him or something. That would’ve been super messy. This way is clean.”

“Well, good, then. It sounds like it was okay.”

“Yeah. But back to you though. What happened after we left? Did you stick around the bar drinking with Tom Quincy or something?”

“Yeah,” Jude admitted.

Devi raised an eyebrow. “Jude…” she said in a wary tone.

“He… we…” She sighed. “He came up to my room.”

“What?” Devi cried incredulously.

“What what?” Jude asked defensively, crossing her arms.

“I just thought… Isn’t he married? I remember you talking about his wedding.” Jude sighed again and Devi cried, “Jude!”

“Shh!” Jude shushed her. “Calm down, it’s not what it sounds like.”

“It sounds like you sleeping with a married dude!”

“Divorced!” she insisted, and Devi visibly relaxed. Jude hesitated, then said, “Well… okay, separated.”

“Jude!” Devi protested again.

“They’re seeing other people!” she said quickly. “He’s living in a hotel, she’s on Tinder, they’re like, done, okay? I’m not some dirty mistress, Jesus.”

“How do you know? How do you know they’re not still together?”

“Because he told me.”

Devi looked incredulous. “Oh, and a guy would _never_ lie about something like that to get into a girl’s pants.”

“He wasn’t lying,” Jude insisted. “I know him, okay? I can tell when he’s lying. This was the truth. He’s legitimately living in that hotel, for one thing, and anyway, he looked… sad, when he talked about her. He’s definitely not cheating on his wife. She ended things with him.” Devi still looked skeptical, so Jude added, “Plus, I threatened to cut off his dick if he was lying to me, and he’s pretty attached to that thing, so…”

Devi laughed. “Did you really?” Jude nodded, and Devi laughed again, shaking her head. “Classic. _That_ is why I love you.”

“So give me a little credit, here, I didn’t sleep with a married man.” She corrected herself, getting frustrated, “Okay so _technically_ I did, but it wasn’t cheating, okay?”

Devi held up her hands. “I believe you, I believe you.” She frowned a little. “Still sounds, like… really messy though.”

Jude sighed and muttered, “Yeah, I know.”

“Is this something I’m gonna have to be concerned about from a PR standpoint?”

Jude winced. She hadn’t even considered that. “I don’t think so? The place was pretty empty by the time… The bartender would know, but other than that…” She tried to remember if there’d been anyone in the lobby as they’d walked to the elevators, but all she could remember was Tommy’s lips on her shoulder and the way the world blurred around them as he pulled her against him. She shook her head, as much to clear it of the memory as anything else. “I don’t know for sure, but I really don’t think there’d be anyone who’d sell the story.”

Devi nodded. “Okay, I believe you. But you know the media would eat this shit up. You and your married ex-boyband ex-boyfriend? I’m not trying to give you some kind of lecture here, and I know it sucks living your life under a microscope, but that’s the job. It wouldn’t be that big a deal, we could manage it if we needed to, but that’s the kind of stuff you need to think about before you do something like this.”

“I know, I didn’t think about it, I was drunk, Tommy was…” she sighed again. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dev, it just kind of happened.”

“Is this like, a rebound thing? Because of Max?”

Jude cringed a little at the mention of her ex, who, a couple months ago, had left her to get back together with his ex-girlfriend, but she shook her head. “No. Definitely not. Honestly, I didn’t even think about him at all. If anything it was more about Tommy, about unresolved shit between us from years ago.”

“Well, that sounds even messier.” Jude groaned and Devi gave her a sympathetic look. “But I mean, I guess it was just a one time thing, so not a huge deal.” Jude bit her lip and Devi’s eyebrows shot up. “Tell me you’re not seeing him again.” Jude looked at her helplessly and Devi said, “So what, do you, like, still have feelings for him or something?” 

“No,” Jude said, shaking her head. Devi looked skeptical, so she insisted, “Honestly, no, I don’t. It’s just… I don’t know. It was…” she trailed off with another sigh.

Devi raised her eyebrows. “Damn, was the sex _that_ good?”

“Well… Kinda, yeah.”

She looked a little impressed. “Wow, okay. Way to go Little Tommy Q. That nickname, by the way, is it, like, ironic, or–”

Jude laughed and shook her head. “No way. I’m not going there.”

Devi shrugged. “Okay, just wondering.” She studied Jude’s face for a moment, then said, more seriously, “Be careful, though, okay? It just sounds really complicated. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

A voice from down the hall called, “Places for ‘Where Is The Sky’ in ten!” 

Jude stood up, calling back, “Thank you ten!” She turned back to Devi as she started walking down the hallway and said, “We were always complicated. Complicated is like… Tommy’s middle name. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay, girl. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Thanks, Dev.”

… .... ... .... … 

Tommy didn’t wake until well into the afternoon. When things with Erica had really started to go bad, he’d drastically cut back his workload at his job as a producer at Cardinal Records. He’d temporarily dropped all but one of the artists he was working with, telling his bosses he needed to spend more time at home, vaguely implying, without outright lying, that Erica was seriously ill or something like that. The reality was that she ended up kicking him out that week, and instead of going back to work full time, he’d been using the extra free time to wallow and drink. It wasn’t at all healthy, and he knew it, but when had Tommy ever been an example of healthy choices?

His phone, which by some miracle he’d remembered to plug in last night, had been what had woken him. He grabbed it and saw that he’d received a text from Erica, reading, _“Lawyer wants to meet next Tuesday at 2:15. Bring your council too if possible. I assume you have a lawyer by now. Pls check Tuesday works and confirm ASAP.”_

He shut his eyes for a moment. The pain in his head from the hangover was nothing compared to the hole the message had reopened in his chest. He finally opened his eyes again and texted back _“Why are you doing this”_

Her reply came, quick and sharp. _“Bc we were too stupid and naive to sign a prenup”_

Anger surged in him. _“I dont care about money. Go ahead and take everything if you want it so bad”_

He could practically see her seething face with her next text. _“Don’t you dare, Tom. You don’t get to make me out to be some kind of gold digger.”_ He was typing out “that’s not what I meant” when another message from her came. _“It’s not about the money it’s about being fair.”_ Then, _“Just talk to your lawyer and confirm Tuesday ASAP please.”_

Tommy stared at his screen, at her name at the top of the text conversation. She was in his phone as “Erica wifeyy” followed by emojis of a camera, a ring, a book, and two red hearts. The contact name was ridiculous and completely not his style, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it. Every time she texted or called him, he was reminded of her head against his shoulder and her giggling at his protests that he didn’t use emojis. It had been about four months ago, in the back of a limo on the way home from the release party for her second novel, and she had been happy giddy drunk off too many glasses of champagne. Things hadn’t been going well between them for a while at that point. They’d been fighting a lot and things had been tense, but it had all melted away for that one night. He looked at the name now, and despite the anger and the hurt in all of her messages, he could remember the smell of sandalwood and strawberries and champagne, the feel of her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist and the sound of her laughter like bells.

There were so many memories from their life together that now felt like hopelessly broken pieces, cutting him like shards of glass every time he thought of them. The day they met, proposing to her as the sun set over the water, her on their wedding day looking radiant, a thousand shared smiles and soft, sleepy kisses that he’d never get to experience ever again. He still loved her so deeply, but in the end none of it mattered, because he’d let her slip through his fingers and they’d broken beyond repair.

Finally, when the lump in his throat had grown so large he thought he might actually be in danger of crying, he sent the _“not what I meant”_ text, then said, _“I dont want a lawyer but we can meet with yours tues if thats what you really want”_

_“It is.”_ came her reply. 

He gave a heavy sigh and switched off the phone before laying back down and covering his head with the hotel comforter.


	4. Chapter 4

Jude was looking at him like she was studying him, and it made him nervous. They were lying in her big hotel bed, him on top of the covers and her partly under them, wearing his T-shirt. She had her chin propped up on her fist next to him, and she was stroking his hair and studying him with a slight frown on her face. Finally he sighed and asked, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

When he’d showed up at her room, she’d given him a big smile as she said, “Hi.” She looked different tonight, more like the Jude he remembered from years ago, in a T-shirt and jeans, messy hair and not much makeup. She was still gorgeous, and after murmuring his own hello, he’d pulled her to him, kissing her deeply, but she’d pulled back. “Whoa, have you been drinking?” she asked. “Are you drunk?”

“I am… not sober,” he admitted, suddenly feeling like maybe he’d done something wrong, or maybe that showing up drunk was letting too much slip about what his life these days was like when he wasn’t with her. She frowned for a second, and he raised his eyebrows. “Sorry… Is that a problem?”

Her face had cleared. “No. No, sorry. I was just surprised. Come here.”

But… now she was studying him. He frowned and said, “Seriously, Jude, what?”

She hesitated a moment, then said, quietly, “You’re still in love with your wife.”

“What?” He pulled away form her hand with a frown, then muttered, “Ex-wife,” and lay back down.

“Not technically. Not yet. And you’re still in love with her.”

“What the hell makes you say that?” he asked, defensively, sitting up.

“Well, this, for one thing.” She sat up with him and grabbed his left hand. “You still wear your ring.”

He pulled his hand out of hers. “It’s stuck,” he muttered, a transparent lie.

She raised an eyebrow. “Soap and water, Tom. Plus, the look you get when you talk about her…”

“I _don’t_ talk about her,” he protested.

“Fine, when _I_ talk about her. Clearly you still–”

“You don’t know me,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Don’t pretend you do.”

It was a comment meant to hurt her. It was the sort of thing that would’ve made the old Jude’s eyes fill with tears, would’ve started a fight, but this Jude just looked at him for a moment with pity in her eyes, then shook her head. “You’re wrong. I have _always_ known you, Tommy. Even when you tried to convince me I didn’t.”

He wanted to get mad, wanted to yell at her, but he couldn’t, because she was right. He couldn’t hide from her. He used to pretend that he could, but she had always seen him, even more than she knew. He sighed and lay back down, shutting his eyes. “So what if I am? What if I do still love her? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you really so sure she doesn’t still love you too?” Jude asked, gently. He didn’t respond. After a moment she pulled his head gently into her lap and resumed her stroking of his hair, then asked, “What happened?”

He sighed. He didn’t really want to answer, didn’t feel like he should tell Jude anything, but he was still a little drunk and her fingers in his hair were oddly comforting. She was asking with such genuine concern, and it had been so long since he’d felt like he had someone to talk to… 

“It’s complicated,” he said, finally, not looking at her. “We… stopped talking. Started fighting all the time. We just weren’t happy anymore.” Jude gave a “hmm” but she could clearly sense there was something else. The old Jude would’ve pushed, which would’ve made it easy for him to get angry and shut the conversation down, but she just continued silently running her fingers through his hair and waiting for him to speak. He hesitated for another long moment before saying, “So, uh, a couple months before we got married, Erica got pregnant. It wasn’t good timing, I mean, even on top of all the wedding stuff, our lives were both gonna be kind of crazy after the honeymoon. She was on a serious deadline to finish up rewrites of her novel, and I was working on something insane like ten different albums or something. But we talked about it , and we decided to keep it anyway.” He sighed. “And then a couple weeks later, she lost the baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Jude murmured.

He shrugged. “It was really early on, and it was unplanned, and the timing wasn’t great, so we agreed it was probably for the best. But then a little while after we got married we like, started trying, for real.”

“You wanted kids?” she sounded mildly surprised.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted… all of it, with Erica. The house and the dog and the kids and fucking growing old together and…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see Jude’s face, see the pity he knew would be in her expression. He could feel it anyway, in the way her fingers caressed his hair, slow and methodical and soothing, patiently waiting for him to continue. Eventually he relaxed a little and spoke again. “It took a long time and a shit ton of really frustrating false alarms, but she got pregnant again, a little less than a year ago. That time she made it almost four months, 13 weeks before…” He clenched his jaw. “We had started telling people. It was awful. They had to… take it out.” He was whispering now, barely moving his lips, the memory of it hitting him again, of sitting numbly beside a hospital bed, holding a sedated Erica’s hand, trying and failing to process what was happening. “The baby had died and we didn’t even know. We went in for an ultrasound and they were just like ‘sorry, no heartbeat.’”

“God, Tommy, I’m so sorry.” Jude sounded so sad, and it made him feel sick, but he couldn’t stop talking, felt like he needed to get the rest of it out or it would suffocate him.

“And she wouldn’t talk about it. She just wanted to forget it ever happened. She wouldn’t see a doctor about it, she wouldn’t talk about IVF or adoption or anything, she was just like… done with the conversation. She just locked herself in her office and wrote, and she wouldn’t talk to me and I… should’ve tried harder to understand. But I didn’t.” His words came out in a rush, quick and angry and disgusted with himself. “I started drinking, and I drank and I yelled and we fought, and she was cold so I got angrier and then she kicked me out and here I am, and she’s got a lawyer and a Tinder and it’s over. So it doesn’t matter whether I still love her or not, Jude, because we’re fucking done.”

He didn’t know exactly what he expected Jude to say in response, but when she asked, “How much are you drinking these days?” he pulled his head out of her lap and glared at her.

“None of your business. You don’t get to judge me, Harrison.”

She looked surprised. “I’m not! Whoa, I didn’t say I was judging you. I just asked because I’m concerned.”

“Well, don’t be,” he snapped.

She sighed. “You’re self-destructing again, Tommy.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m fine. Forget I said anything, I shouldn’t’ve told you any of that.”

“I don’t get it though. If you still love her, why haven’t you been fighting for her? You guys just jumped straight to divorce, you didn’t even try counseling or anything? I mean, even my parents at least did counseling, and they pretty much hated each other by that point.”

He flipped over so fast she actually jumped, and glared at her. “None of this is any of your fucking business. You may have convinced yourself that you know me, but you don’t know shit about marriage, especially mine,” he hissed.

That time the comment landed. He watched the flash of pain in her expression, then the glare. “You should go,” she said coldly. She pulled his shirt off over her head and threw it at him as she put a robe on.

His heart sank. “Wait. Jude, wait.”

“Out, Tom!”

“Hey, hey hey,” he said gently, standing up and walking over to her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking her in the eyes, and she stopped protesting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you, okay? It’s hard to talk about. It’s complicated, alright? I don’t want to talk about her.” He brushed a lock of hair behind Jude’s ear, trailing his fingers along her jaw and then grabbing her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up towards his slightly. “Especially not while I’m in bed with such a beautiful woman.”

He could see her trying to decide whether to roll her eyes and tell him again to leave, but he put a hand on the back of her neck and kissed her gently, and she didn’t pull away. After a moment she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, pressing against him, so he gently pushed her back to the bed and pulled the robe open, trailing kisses down her body as she wove her fingers into his hair. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he knelt beside the bed and she spread her legs, gasping his name as he flicked his tongue out. He didn’t let up until he had her panting, until she writhed and moaned and cried out and he knew for sure she’d forgotten all about his wife.

… .... ... .... … 

“Oi, Harrison!” Mitch, her drummer, called from behind her. She stopped walking and turned as he jogged up to her. “You coming tonight?”

“Coming where?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Uh… Bunch of us are going out. Nothing major, just a late dinner and a few drinks, sort of a good luck kind of kickoff to the North American leg of the tour.” He frowned. “I was standing right there when Tariq suggested it to you, you said it sounded like a good idea. Do you not remember?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, I remember. I can’t, though, sorry. I have plans.”

“With your sister? Can you bring her?”

Jude cringed a little. She had actually rescheduled her plans with Sadie at Tommy’s convincing. He was just so damned _persuasive_ when they were both naked. “Actually no, um…”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Same guy _again?_ Is this the third night in a row?”

“What? What guy?” she asked, too defensively. “Who says there’s a guy?”

“Uh, that does, for one thing,” he said, looking amused and gesturing to the hickey on her neck. “Oh, and that does as well.” He gestured to the other side of her neck, near her shoulder. She’d yelled at Tommy for that one, and she silently cursed him now.

Jude pulled her jacket tighter, trying to conceal the marks. “Uh… Right. Okay, so yeah, he’s just… He’s a friend, he’s…”

“Good friend, looks like,” Mitch said, close to laughing.

“It’s… complicated,” she muttered, her face flushed.

“Alright. Well, we’ll miss you. Have fun.” He smirked. “Not too much fun, though, or you’re gonna have to buy more concealer.”

“Thanks so much for the advice, Mitch,” she intoned dryly, and he laughed as he walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t working anymore. 

The drinking had stopped working a long time ago, or maybe it had never really worked. Tommy had never forgotten Erica when he was drunk, but at first it had made it easier to be angry at her, harder to be hurt. Now it just made him sick and sad.

Without meaning to, he’d turned Jude into another vice. It was deeply wrong of him, he knew, but for the few hours when he was with her, he didn’t feel empty. He didn’t feel the loss of his wife as acutely when Jude was in his arms. Maybe he didn’t love Jude the way he once had, maybe he didn’t feel for her the way he felt for Erica, but he felt _something_. She was a source of comfort, if nothing else, but it was more than that. She was so beautiful and talented and she’d grown into everything he’d hoped she would without him holding her back. There was a version of him that loved her deeply, desperately, more than he’d ever loved anyone before, and he could bring that part of himself out for a while, resurrect the feelings when they were together. He wasn’t sure what she felt for him, couldn’t work out what she really wanted, but he knew there was something there for her too, if only because she kept letting him come back.

But tonight this wasn’t working either. He’d forgotten for a while during the actual sex. He felt whole for a moment when his name was on her lips, felt like himself when he was inside her, but even though now he held her close as she slowly dozed off in his arms, the feeling that he was okay had faded too quickly back into thoughts of the ways he’d failed with Erica, of everything he was losing.

That stupid conversation with Jude last night had made him hope that maybe there was still a chance for them. He’d let Jude’s optimism into his head. Because, well, they _hadn’t_ tried counseling. The fighting had gotten so bad, and Erica’s pronouncement that she wanted him out, that they were over, had seemed so final that he hadn’t even thought of suggesting they see a professional. He hated therapy, had always hated therapy, but for Erica he’d do it in a heartbeat, if that would save them.

His first mistake had probably been to call her in the middle of the night. To do it while still drunk had been even worse. She’d sounded groggy and confused when she answered, but that quickly turned to anger as she registered that it was him, then fury when she figured out that he was drunk. He’d tried to tell her he wasn’t ready to give up on them, that divorce wasn’t the only option, and that he would do whatever it took to make her see that. Unfortunately, the way it had come out was “why did you give up on us? Why would you jump straight to divorce without even considering counseling?” She’d interpreted all of it completely wrong, and the conversation had ended with her shouting at him through tears that it wasn’t fair of him to blame her for this, then hanging up. He didn’t dare try to call her back and explain.

He looked down at Jude now, and the desperation rose inside of him. He kissed her hair, her neck, her shoulder, trying to remember what it had been like to _know,_ to be so sure that, despite all the obvious obstacles, they would be together forever, that she would be enough.

“Run away with me.”

Jude looked up. “What?” she asked, sure she hadn’t heard him right. She was half asleep, completely exhausted from too many long rehearsals and too much sex and not enough sleep, and Tommy had murmured the words into the skin of her shoulder.

“Run away with me,” he repeated, looking into her eyes this time. He was drunker tonight than last night. He’d actually had a bottle in his hand when he showed up at her door, and she tried not to let her surprise and her worry show on her face. He’d offered her some, and she’d accepted mainly so there’d be less for him to drink. More than that, ever since he’d told her about his wife and the miscarriages, there’d been an increasing desperation in the way he kissed her, touched her, fucked her. She’d become more and more uneasy about it, and it had made the sex weird and tense. He looked so deeply sad as he looked at her now, his expression full of that same desperate, haunted pain she’d seen in his eyes on the first night when she’d asked how he’d met his wife. It scared her.

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” she turned to look at him, frowning.

“Jude,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her face, pushing himself up on his elbow so he was hovering over her. “Please.”

“What? Please what? Tommy, you’re not making sense.”

“Run away with me,” he repeated, more desperately this time. “We can go to Thailand. We said we would, and we never did. There are so many things we never did, Jude. Do you remember? We can go to Thailand and we can lay out on the beach and make love in the ocean and–”

“Are you high?” she protested, pulling away and sitting up, keeping the sheets wrapped around her chest. “God, Tommy, are you hearing yourself?”

“I love you,” he breathed. “Jude, I have loved you since you were 15. Run away with me.”

She was so shocked that she couldn’t even put the words together. “I… Tommy… I have a _life,_ I have a _career_ , I’m not just going to… What the hell are you talking about?”

“I have nothing,” he breathed, and the sadness in his eyes twisted her heart with pity, then anger.

“Well that’s not _my_ fault!” she protested, getting up out of bed and quickly rushing to put a robe on, double knotting the belt tightly around her waist. “How drunk _are_ you?”

“You don’t have to give up your career, Jude. I can… I can travel with you, right? I can tour with you, and then I can move to London. We can write! We can play music! No one writes like you, Jude, you bring lyrics out of me I didn’t know were possible. I _love_ you, I truly, honestly do.”

She was standing, shocked and horrified, staring at him open-mouthed. “Tommy… This was… This is not… This is _sex,_ Tommy, this isn’t… Christ, what?”

“It’s not just sex and you know it, Jude.”

“But it _is_ , though!” she exclaimed. “For me it _is_ , Tom!”

“That’s not the whole truth,” he said softly, raising his eyebrows and sounding actually reasonable for a second. “I know you, Jude. That’s not all there is to this.”

“It’s… There– There’s some residual…” she stammered. “I don’t…”

“I love you,” he said again. “It doesn’t matter where we are, or what we’re doing. I want all of you with me forever.”

Once upon a time, he’d said that and her heart had turned inside out. Once, when she’d been too young and he had been all she wanted in the world, she would’ve given anything to have him ask her to run away with him. “I… Tommy…”

He saw her confusion, and he moved to the edge of the bed, standing up in front of her and putting a hand on the side of her face. “Jude,” he said softly. “Please, I need–”

And there was the begging again, the desperation. She pulled back. “No,” she breathed. She cleared her throat and said, more firmly, “No.”

“Jude…” he pleaded again.

“No!” she cried. “Jesus Christ, Tom! You can’t ask me to fix you anymore!” It clicked, as she said it. Because that’s _exactly_ what he was asking of her.

He looked defensive for the first time, taken aback by her shouting. “That’s not–”

“Yes, it is,” she said, a little bit of hysteria creeping into her voice. “That’s exactly what this is. You think I’m what you need to be okay again.”

“Whoa, hold up, I am not–”

“I’m a _person_ , Tommy!” she shouted. “I am a fucking person! I am not a secondary character in your fucking soap opera of a life!”

“I never said–”

“You are always doing this!” she cried, her voice breaking, tears springing to her eyes. “This is what you used to do to me, all the time! You would say things like ‘when I’m with you, I can be the man I should be’ and then a second later you’d turn around and break my heart again because you’re ‘not good enough for me.’” She knew she was rambling, not quite making sense, but the words just kept coming out, faster and angrier. “You always acted like I could save you from your stupid tragic past that you could never share with me, but you can’t do this to me again! You can’t use me like this! I’m not that stupid kid anymore, Tom, I am a fucking adult! And you can go ahead and try to make me fall for you again, but even if it worked, pretending you love me won’t fix the fact that you’re a 30-year-old alcoholic drinking his way into his second divorce!”

Tommy looked truly angry now. “I never _asked_ you for _any_ of that. That was _your_ stupid fucking idea, thinking you could fix me. All the fucking nice girls think they love the bad boys, think if they can dig deep enough they’re somehow gonna to find some heart of gold, but you just keep digging and you just keep finding more layers of _fucked up_ because that’s what I am! All the way through!”

“That’s really rich, Tommy, blaming me. How many times did you tell me how I _changed_ you, how I was making you a better man, how you’d never loved anyone the way you loved m–”

“That was the fucking truth!” he cut her off, looking livid. They glared at each other for a moment before Tommy’s glare dissolved into pain and he said, quietly, “You think I lied about loving you back then? You think that was me using you? You think I was faking it?”

Jude sighed. “No. No, I didn’t mean–”

“When I proposed, I _meant_ it. I wanted all of it,” he said, fiercely. “You broke my heart when you left, Jude. You fucking _shattered_ it,” his voice broke and her chest ached.

“I know, Tommy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that that wasn’t real. Of _course_ we were real, Tom. We were real, and we mattered, and–”

“You were the only one I had ever let myself believe would love me for all of me. When you left, I lost that.” His tone was still accusatory, and anger surged in her again.

“Okay, there. Right there. _That_ is manipulative! That is you putting me in charge of your screw ups. You figured out that I couldn’t fix you, and you used my leaving as an excuse to give up trying to fix yourself!”

“I did not–” he tried, but she shouted louder over him.

“Is that what you did with Erica, Tom? You figured out that love isn’t magic, that she wouldn’t fix you, that you still had to put in the fucking work? Is that why you’ve given up on your marriage?”

“DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY MARRIAGE!” he roared. It was enough to stun her into silence. “You know _nothing_ about my marriage,” he hissed. “You know _nothing_ about what we went through. You don’t know us. And guess what! You don’t know me anymore either. You were gone, Jude, you were out of my life. You don’t get to make assumptions about who I was with Erica, because you were not there! I love my wife, and she is _not_ you, she wasn’t some kind of replacement for you. We were stronger, we were healthier, we were better than you and I _ever_ were. I _did_ fix myself, Jude! I did better! I worked so hard every day to do better with Erica! You have no clue how much fucking work I put into my relationship wth her!”

He was glaring at her, and she was looking back, wide eyed. After a moment, she breathed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Tommy’s anger seemed to evaporate, suddenly, and he crumpled in on himself as anger was replaced with sorrow. He sat down hard on the bed, head in his hands. “God, I fucked up. I should’ve… Should’ve fought for her, should’ve… _Been there_ for her. But I… I couldn’t handle…” he trailed off with a sigh.

Jude thought for a moment, biting her lip. “She didn’t know how to let you be there for her so she pushed you away. But you needed someone to be there for you too, and she wasn’t, so you turned to drinking,” she said softly, actually physically tensing in preparation for him to yell at her again that she didn’t know what she was talking about.

But he didn’t yell, he just sighed again. After a long moment, he murmured, “I think I’m an alcoholic.”

“I know,” she said softly, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. “I think you’ve kind of been walking that line for a long time, even before I knew you.”

“I fucked it up,” he murmured to himself, his head still in his hands. “I fucked it all up.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said after a moment. He looked up at her incredulously, and she corrected herself. “Okay, at least it’s not _all_ your fault. And it’s also not over.”

He put his head back down again and murmured, “It’s over.”

“Do you know why I loved you, Tommy?” she asked suddenly.

He looked up again, raising his eyebrows. “Because you were young and naïve?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Maybe it was naïve of me to believe we were, like… soulmates, or that the age difference and all of our other huge problems didn’t matter. But I wasn’t naïve to love you.” Tommy looked away again, and Jude said, “I loved you because I _saw_ you, Tom. You’re so talented, and you’re strong, and you _care_. You like to pretend you don’t, but you have the biggest heart of anybody I know. So maybe I was attracted to the drama and the intensity and the electricity, and maybe some of that’s because I was young and naïve, but Tommy, what I _loved_ was _you.”_

He looked back up at her, and he looked confused. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because even though we aren’t right together, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. And because… I know I don’t know your wife, but I think she sees you too. It sounds like maybe you even _let_ her see you. And if she sees the same Tommy I saw then I don’t believe it’s over. I bet you she’s still wearing hers too.” She reached out and tapped his wedding ring.

He shook his head. “She definitely took it off. She sent me like three different pictures of her without it.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “Metaphorically, Tom.” She frowned when she registered what he said. “Wait, like… she held up her ringless ring finger and took a selfie, and sent it to you?”

“Among other fingers,” he muttered.

Jude snorted a laugh. “Seriously?” 

Tommy nodded. “We were fighting, I said something that made her mad… She told me she was glad to be rid of me and sent the pictures.”

“Okay now _that_ is definitely not something you do when you’re over someone. Clearly she still loves you, Tommy.”

He looked skeptical. “Or she hates me.”

“Maybe a little of both,” she admitted. “But the _point_ is, your marriage isn’t over, your life isn’t over, nothing is over until you give up on it.” He raised an eyebrow, and she quickly said, “Except us. We are very very over.” She shook her head. “What I’m trying to say is go get your wife back, okay? If you love her, if you guys are good together, you should fight for that. And… you should do it sober.”

Tommy gave her a look of dark amusement. “Is this you fixing me? Being a character in my soap opera of a life?”

“No,” Jude said patiently. “This is me being a _friend_ and giving you _advice_ on how to fix your _own_ soap opera of a life.”

He gave a hum and looked away. They were silent for a long time before he turned to her again and said, softly, “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’ve been… using you. Maybe for a long time.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

Tommy shook his head. “No. You said what I needed to hear.” 

They were silent for a moment before Jude, looking down at the floor, quietly said, “I do… I care about you. This wasn’t _just_ sex. Nothing with us has ever been ‘just’ anything. But I’m not the person I was, you know? I was so young then, and I didn’t even realize it. I guess maybe everyone thinks they’re all grown up at 16. It doesn’t mean my feelings weren’t real, or like, valid or whatever, but I’m just… not that girl anymore. I’m not the girl who fell in love with her producer, who loved you so much, so blindly and intensely that I did shit like run away from a performance and ruin an album when you left. I can remember how that felt, and there have been a few moments this week where I thought maybe it was still there, but it’s different. There’s still something there, something… I’d be lying if I said I feel nothing, that you don’t still have a huge effect on me, but it isn’t…”

“I get it,” he said softly when she trailed off.

She looked up at him. “Leaving you was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Not just because of the whole moving to another country thing, but because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever… love again?” she looked away, laughing at herself. “That sounds so stupid, saying it out loud.”

“Not at all, girl. I get that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, then said, “It’s just that, well, I loved Jamie, and Shay, and maybe even Speid, in a way, but you always overshadowed them all. Pretty much from the moment we met you were bigger for me than anything or anyone else. Sometimes I could put my feelings for you on the back burner for a while, but you were always there. You always had this _hold_ on me, you know? So when I left, there was a part of me that thought maybe it would always be like that, like maybe you’d always be there in the back of my mind, and every other relationship would just pale in comparison or something. I was scared I’d never find what I had with you again.”

“And did you?” he asked softly.

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’ve been in love. A couple of times, actually. I got my heart broken pretty badly a few months ago, so that’s been… hard.”

“Good lyric material though?” Tommy joked.

Jude snorted a laugh. “I guess. But the way it went down, I wrote too many angry revenge songs at first, and mostly those were _way_ too country.”

He shrugged. “I’d buy a Jude Harrison country album.”

“You and hopefully no one else.” She rolled her eyes. “But yeah, so he swore over and over that there was nothing going on between him and his ex, they were 100% totally just friends. Right up until he left me for her.”

He gave her a sympathetic look and murmured, “His loss.”

“Damn straight it was his loss,” Jude said, and Tommy smiled. She smiled back at him for a second and then looked away again with a sigh. “I guess I haven’t found, like, ‘the one’ or whatever, but maybe I haven’t really been looking for that. I don’t know if anything has quite been… as intense? As you and me? But maybe that’s good.” She laughed a little and shook her head. “I think if we’d gone on as intense as we were it might’ve killed me. That can’t have been healthy.”

“You made the right choice,” Tommy said, and Jude looked up at him. His smile was a little sad. “If I’d gone with you to London, we would’ve ended up resenting each other, I think. And you may have been the one who was too young, but I was the one who was naïve, to think that didn’t matter.” He looked away. “You said you were younger than you realized? Well, you were younger than I realized, too. Younger than I let myself admit. And I’m sorry for that.” He turned back to look at her. “I did love you, Jude. It was real for me, but I was never very… realistic about it, I guess. And then in the end maybe you were the mature one anyway. It’s good that you left. Not just for you, but for me too. Wanting something doesn’t mean it’s right. Love is work, and timing matters. I don’t know if I understood that, back then. So I wouldn’t say you _fixed_ me,” he said it pointedly, raising his eyebrows, “but I did learn from the mistakes we made.” He sighed, pain in his expression again, and looked down at his hands, muttering, “Or at least I thought I had.”

Jude reached out and grabbed his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “You’ll get her back, Tommy. You’ll fix it.”

Tommy looked at her for a long moment, then took a deep breath and said, “Maybe.” He still seemed unsure, but “maybe” was a big improvement over how sure he’d been before that it was hopeless. He squeezed her hand and let go, looking away and running his hands through his hair. After a moment, he laughed, suddenly. “That was definitely the most intense conversation I’ve ever had in my underwear.”

She laughed, too. “Yeah, me too. You should probably get dressed now, though.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, fixing her with his intense gaze for a moment. “One more for the road?” he asked in a low voice.

“Tommy…” Jude started, uncomfortable, but Tommy laughed.

“Kidding, Harrison. Always so gullible.” 

“Jerk!” She shoved his shoulder and he laughed again before standing up to retrieve his clothes. When he was dressed and ready to leave, Jude said, “Oh! One more thing, just a sec.” She went to her gig bag and searched the pockets until she found an envelope. She walked over and handed it to him. He looked at her questioningly and she said, “Ticket. To tomorrow’s concert. I’d really love if you’d come. There’s only one in there, but I could probably wrangle you another one if you wanted to bring–”

“Jude,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “Don’t push it.”

“Okay,” she conceded, putting her hands up. “Sorry.”

“But thanks,” he said as he slipped the envelope into his pocket. “I’ll be there.” They paused for a long, slightly awkward moment, until Tommy said, “This has been…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

She laughed. “The weirdest week ever?”

“Sure.” He laughed a little, too, then said, “Goodbye, girl.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and he hugged her tightly for a long moment. “Goodbye, Tommy.”

… .... ... .... …

The next night, he watched from the stands of a sold-out stadium as Jude rocked one number after another. He cringed at himself for ever entertaining the idea, even for a minute, of trying to take her away from this. On stage she was radiant, powerful and grown up and a more amazing performer than he’d have ever been able to dream when that stubborn, defiant redheaded girl had walked into his studio so many years ago.

She closed with “The Music,” as she had at the last concert he’d seen her perform, more than four years ago. _I won’t back down, I won’t fade away, I’ll make it through as long as the music plays_. 

He was smiling so hard by the time she finished that his face actually hurt. _That’s my girl_ , he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

It felt strange and surreal, walking into his house for the first time in weeks. He still had a key, but he hadn’t dared to come back here since he’d moved into the hotel at the end of their last epic shouting match, except to grab things a couple of times when he knew she’d be out. As he walked up to the front door he heard barking, and soon as he stepped into the house, he heard the sound of a collar jingling and paws on the hardwood floor. Watson, Erica’s beagle, came running around the corner so fast he nearly skidded into the wall. “Hi buddy,” Tommy laughed, crouching down as Watson bounded up to him. Watson was Erica’s dog, not Tommy’s, she’d adopted him as a puppy before she and Tommy met. Tommy had never really been a dog person, but Watson had taken an immediate liking to him for some reason, and over the years Tommy had grown quite attached. Losing the dog was one of many horrible things he’d tried not to let himself think about in the past few weeks. “Hi Watson. Hey buddy,” he laughed again as Watson jumped excitedly up at him, trying to lick his face.

After a moment, he heard someone say quietly, “He misses you.”

Tommy looked up to see Erica standing in the entryway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, she was dressed in pajama pants and an old T-shirt, and her shiny dark hair was up in a messy bun. She was breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. “I, uh… I miss him too,” Tommy said, giving Watson one last pat before straightening up.

Watson continued to bark and howl and jump up at Tommy’s feet until Erica commanded, “Watson, come,” and he immediately turned and scampered over to her, looking up at her adoringly, wagging his tail and waiting for instruction. “Good boy,” Erica cooed. “Now go ‘side.” She pointed in the direction of the back door, the one with the doggy door. The beagle looked mournfully at Tommy for a moment, but Erica said, “Watson,” again, and he complied, slinking off in the direction Erica had pointed. 

A memory popped into Tommy’s head, an inside joke between them about her unintentionally using her Watson voice on Tommy when she wanted him to do something. Sometimes when she’d say “Watson” he’d say “Erica” in the same tone, and she’d reply with “Tom” or sometimes “Thomas,” but she could never keep a straight face when she did it, would almost always break into giggles. It was kind of a stupid joke, but one that made her laugh every time. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for a second, but he pushed the thought away. He didn’t figure she’d find the reference funny right now. 

She looked up at him with a sigh when Watson was gone. “What are you doing here, Tom?”

“I’m…” he sighed. “I’m just tired of this, okay? Living in a hotel… Please, I just want to come home.”

A hurt look crossed her face, but she quickly channeled it into her glaring. “If you want the house, then get a damn lawyer and we’ll work it out.”

“No!” he protested. “Jesus, Erica, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want the house. I don’t care about the house, or the cars, or the money, any of it, okay? I just… I want _you_. That’s all I want. I want to come home to you, I want us to be okay again. I _love_ you, I want to be with you.”

She was shaking her head faster and faster. “No. Nope. You don’t get to come in here and say that. Are you drunk? It’s not even noon!”

“No,” he insisted, trying to stay calm and not let himself feel too insulted. “God, no, I’m not drunk. I’m totally sober. I’m actually the most sober I’ve been in years.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, suspiciously.

“It means I quit drinking. For real. For good.”

She actually looked pleasantly surprised for a second before the suspicious look came back. “How long ago?”

He sighed. “Only about 48 hours, but Erica, I’m serious about this. I went to an AA meeting last night.”

She rolled her eyes. “One AA meeting doesn’t make you sober, Tom. And even if it did, you being sober doesn’t mean we’re okay.”

“I know that.” He was fighting not to get frustrated. “Can you just– can you please turn off attack mode for one second and listen to me? I’m… I’m really not good at this, okay? None of this is easy for me, but I’m _trying._ I know one meeting doesn’t make me sober, Erica, of course I know that, I’m not stupid! But can you please just try and acknowledge the effort for a second? I was serious the other night, about counseling.”

“ _You’re_ suggesting therapy? You want to talk to a stranger about our marriage? About your feelings? You?”

“Yes, I am, _me_ , because I still love you! We just gave up, both of us, and I don’t want that! I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I want to _try_ , Erica!”

“Well I don’t!” she snapped.

He actually flinched. He stared at her for a moment before asking, “Do you mean that?”

She looked guilty for the first time. “I… I don’t know. Christ, Tom, why are you doing this now?”

“When am I going to get another chance? You’re moving so fast with this! We somehow went from taking a break to getting divorced in two weeks, and suddenly we’re meeting with lawyers and I’m… losing you.” Erica just squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her head back against the wall. After another long moment, Tommy asked, quietly, “Do you love me?”

Erica looked back at him, and he saw the flash of pain in her eyes. “You can’t ask me that.”

“Of course I can! I am your _husband_. Does that seriously mean nothing to you anymore? I’m asking. Do you still love me?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she put her head in her hands and groaned, “Tom…”

As she put her hands up, the sparkling of the diamond on her left ring finger caught his eye. He didn’t believe his eyes for a second, but when he realized what he was seeing, he rushed forward without thinking. “Hey,” he said softly, catching her hand as she took it from her face. “You’re still wearing it?”

She pulled her hand out of his. “It’s stuck,” she said defensively.

Tommy couldn’t help but let out a laugh, her using the same stupid lie he’d used on Jude. “No it isn’t, you sent me pictures of you without it.”

She cringed. “Right.” She looked back at him, looking guilty. “That was… I shouldn’t have done that. It was really childish. I was just… angry, and a little drunk, and I’m sorry.”

“I get it. We’ve both said a lot of stupid things. But seriously, the ring? Have you been wearing it?”

She hesitated, looking down and twisting the ring on her finger. “I’ve… I took it off, for a while, but I keep putting it back on out of habit. I’m too used to it, it’s… it feels wrong without it.”

“Everything feels wrong without you.” It came out sounding cornier than he’d meant it to, but it was the truth. Erica sighed again and shut her eyes. “Erica.” He said her name again, and when she looked up at him, he held up his own left hand. “I never took it off.” Her eyes filled with tears again and she looked down at the floor. He took a step closer, reaching out a hand. When she didn’t object, he placed it on the side of her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb, and whispered, “Do you still love me?”

She looked back up at him through wide, teary eyes, and reached a hand out, running her fingers through the hair at his temple. “Of course I do,” she said with a little sob. “Of course I love you.”

His heart soared for a second, his face breaking into a smile. “Then we can–”

“It’s not enough, Tom,” she cut him off, shaking her head and pulling back, walking a few steps away. “It’s bigger than that.” She pressed her hands to her forehead in frustration before turning around to look at him. “It’s not enough to just love each other. When was the last time we were happy?” 

Tommy looked at her for a moment, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, opening it to her contact and turning the screen towards her.

She frowned, but took the phone from him. She put a hand over her mouth as she saw the name. “You kept it like that?” 

He nodded. “Couldn’t bring myself to change it because it reminds me of you happy and not hating me.”

She shook her head, laughing through tears. “You goddamn sentimental idiot. That’s so… That’s so sweet and so stupid,” she laughed again as she said it, handing the phone back to him and wiping more tears from her cheeks.

“I miss you,” he said quietly as he put the phone back in his pocket. “I know it’s been hard, but… it hasn’t been all bad, has it?” She just sighed again. He looked at her for a moment before asking, “What happened to us?”

She crossed her arms over her chest again. “Maybe we’re just too different,” she said dryly.

“Come on, Erica,” he groaned. “Don’t give me that.”

“What do you want me to say, Tom?” she protested. “We don’t talk, we just fight. You yell at me for every single fucking thing I do, half the time you’re drunk off your ass…”

He clenched his jaw, but forced himself to stay calm. “But those are things we can work on, right? And we didn’t used to be like that!”

She put her head in her hands again and groaned before looking back up at him. “Fine, do you really want me to say it?”

“Say what?” he asked, confused.

She stared at him for a long moment, looking sad. “You know when things started to go bad, Tom. You know _exactly_ when.”

He felt a sharp pang of pain in his stomach, and he sighed. “Erica…”

“You’re gonna make me say it, then?”

“The baby,” he said softly. “I know. And look, I know that was awful, but–”

“It was more than just awful!” she cried. “It was… it brought out every single thing wrong with you and me, every single reason we don’t work.”

“You wouldn’t _talk_ to me!” He was getting frustrated, now. “What was I supposed to do? I tried, but you wouldn’t talk to me!”

“I couldn’t!” she protested. “I couldn’t talk to you, because you wanted me to forget, you wanted me to move on, you wanted us to try again, and I couldn’t even _think_ about that. You kept saying ‘we can try again, there are doctors, there are specialists, it doesn’t mean we can’t have kids,’ but I didn’t _want_ to think about having kids, Tom!” She started to cry, tears spilling down her cheeks, and her words came out in a rush. “I know it’s stupid. I know it was still really early and he had already stopped developing a long time before, and I know there was never any hope and he was two inches long and he couldn’t hear or see or breathe, and I know we didn’t even know if he _was_ a he, but he was still my baby, Tom.” She let out a sob, wrapping her arms around herself. “It was already so real to me. I didn’t want to move forward, I didn’t want try again, I didn’t want _a_ baby, I wanted _that_ baby.”

“Erica…” he started to reach out, wanting desperately to comfort her, to hold her, but she pulled back from his reach, wrapping her arms tighter around herself and curling away from him. “So did I,” he said in a pleading voice. “Of course it’s not stupid. It was real to me too. I just… I wanted to talk about trying again because I didn’t want you to give up. I wanted to think about moving forward because it made it easier for me to… I was trying to _help_.”

“You tried to pretend that you understood, but you didn’t! It was _my_ body, Tom! That’s the part you didn’t get. You thought I was mourning the _idea_ of a baby, but I wasn’t, it wasn’t about some future hypothetical kid, it was about the baby that died inside of me.”

“I know! I know it was, it was for me too. I never said it wasn’t, I never said any of that. And just because it wasn’t my body doesn’t mean it wasn’t my baby! How can you say I don’t understand?”

Erica let out another sob and squeezed her eyes shut, whispering, “I know you blamed me. And maybe you were right to. Maybe it was my fault.”

“What?” he breathed, horrified. “Blamed you for what? For the… for the miscarriage?” She gave another loud sob. “Erica, of course I didn’t blame you! Of course it wasn’t your fault! Jesus, is that what you– is that really what you thought?”

She took a shaky breath, eyes still shut. “You said… You said ‘next time we’ll be more careful so this won’t happen.’”

Had he really said that? He wracked his brain but didn’t remember it. “Did I?” She opened her eyes and looked at him, her lower lip trembling as she nodded. “I mean, I don’t… I don’t remember that, but I didn’t mean… I never thought you did anything wrong, I just meant we could like, go to a doctor and they could tell us what we should do or if there was like a medication or something that could help prevent… I don’t know how it works, but I figured there’d be something that could stop it from happening again. I didn’t mean you did anything wrong. I never thought… I promise, I _never_ blamed you. Of course I didn’t.” He stepped forward, and this time she let him put his arms around her. “Erica,” he murmured her name, stroking her hair, “of course I never blamed you. I’m so sorry if I made you think that. Of course it’s not your fault.” She let out another little sob and finally uncrossed her arms, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tightly for a moment, rubbing her back as she cried. “You never told me. I never knew you thought that. If you had just talked to me, I could’ve–”

She pulled back suddenly, looking angry. “Oh, right, because you’re the master of talking about your feelings. Sure, Tom, lecture _me_ about communication. That’s fucking rich.” She pushed him away and turned, walking away from him.

“That’s not fair.” His voice broke as he said it, and she stopped, though she didn’t turn. He could see her hang her head. “You know how hard I have tried to be open with you. You _know_. It’s hard for me sometimes, but I _try_ and you know that.”

She did turn around, then, looking guilty. She sniffled, wiping tears from her cheeks, and said, “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Is that really what you think our problem is? That _I_ don’t talk to _you_?”

“No.” She shook her head, but then hesitated. “Okay, I mean, yes, sometimes. You have to admit, you’ve been doing a lot more yelling than talking, lately.”

“And you haven’t?” he protested, still hurt.

“And I have too, okay? I know.” She sighed. “There’s… something else. Something I didn’t tell you about. I’m so sorry, I screwed up, I should’ve said something, I should’ve…” She looked up at him and there were tears in her eyes again. She took a deep breath and said, “I can’t have kids, Tom.”

He frowned, confused. “Wait, what? Says who?”

“Dr. Yamada.”

“What? When? Since I moved out?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “A long time ago. Right after… A few weeks after I lost the baby.”

“What?” He couldn’t process what she was saying. “I’m… I don’t understand.”

Erica took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After a D &C, they like, run tests, I guess, on the… stuff?”

“Okay, yeah, I remember they called, but you said they didn’t find anything. You told me it was nothing.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t nothing. They found evidence of tumors.”

He felt a jolt and his eyes widened. “You’re kidding me! Erica!”

“Benign!” she assured him, raising her hands. “Benign, sorry. Not cancer, nothing major like that. But they told me it could be affecting my ability to sustain pregnancies, and that I should make an appointment. I kept putting it off. I couldn’t deal with more doctors and more thinking about all of it, and so I just didn’t for a few weeks.” 

He thought about those first few weeks after, when Erica locked herself in her office practically for days at a time, refused to talk to him about anything to do with the baby, and later, about anything much at all. She would barely eat, wouldn’t let him touch her… No matter how he’d tried to rationalize it away, his resentment of her had grown and grown until he couldn’t push it down except by drinking more and more. He’d known at the time that she was keeping things from him, he could feel it, but he didn’t know how to push her to talk about it without just making her angry. Even so, he’d had no idea she would’ve kept something like this from him. “You didn’t even tell me?” he asked quietly.

“When I finally made the appointment, I was going to tell you, Tom, I was. But I asked if you were busy and you told me you were working then, so I just thought I’d tell you about it afterward.”

“I would’ve moved my schedule around!”

“I know. But I didn’t want… Maybe talking to you about it would’ve made it too real, or something. By the time I realized I wanted you there it was too late.” She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes. “They told me that I have a lot of large fibroids, and something called a septate uterus, and that together those things make it unlikely I’ll be able to carry a pregnancy to term.” She opened her eyes again and let her breath out in a sigh. She saw his hurt look, and said, “I was going to tell you.”

“Yeah?” he snapped. “Tell me when? Eight fucking months later? I cannot _believe_ –”

She spoke over him, cutting him off. “I was going to tell you when you got home that day! But then you didn’t, Tom!”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t come home.” She looked hurt. “I texted you, and you didn’t respond for hours, and then when you finally came back…” she trailed off, looking at him with sadness and disappointment.

Tommy’s heart sank. “I was drunk.”

Erica nodded. “The first thing you did was yell at me for moving your guitar, so I yelled at you for being home so late, and we just… got into it. Again. It just didn’t seem like the right time, and then it never did.”

“Okay, but that… Erica, that’s still the kind of thing you tell your _husband_. That’s not the kind of thing you keep a fucking secret from me.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. But it was…” She put her hands up to her head. “I didn’t want to give you one more reason to push me away.”

“Push _you_ away?” he asked, incredulous and angry. “You think I’ve been pushing _you_ away? All you’ve done for months is push _me_ away. That is how all of this started, Erica! You wouldn’t talk to me! _You_ pushed _me_ away, not the other way around!”

“That’s not fair! I needed time to process it all, okay? I know I should’ve talked to you more about what was going on with me, but I just– I needed some space, and I needed to focus on edits for the sequel, and I just didn’t know how to talk to you. I didn’t want to think about it, and I didn’t want to talk about it. I just needed a few weeks to sort through everything in my head. But you started drinking, and we started fighting, and it just kept getting harder and harder and–”

He cut her off, frustrated. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I needed you?”

She stopped, looking surprised. “What?”

He took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could. “I know that it was different for you, that you were like, connected to it differently because it was a thing that was happening to your body or whatever, but dammit, Erica, I lost my baby that day too.”

“I know,” she said, wide eyed. “I know you did, I never said…”

“I wanted you to talk to me because I wanted you to be okay. It wasn’t about me, but when you wouldn’t, I…” he looked away, down at his feet, and said his next words softly. “I felt like I was totally alone.” He cleared his throat of the lump that had formed in it. “And I know that’s not an excuse for all the drinking. I’ve had a problem for a long time, since way before we met. Sometimes I keep it under control, and sometimes I don’t, and I guess this… made it so I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Tom,” Erica sighed. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I was all wrapped up in myself and I… But you never _said_ anything.”

He looked back up at her. “What was I supposed to say, Erica? ‘I know I still hear you crying in your office every day, but I really need you to pay attention to me’?”

“Don’t say it like that,” she scolded.

“Like what?”

“Like you’d have been a burden on me.” She looked very sad. “Please don’t ever think that I would view you as a burden. There’s nothing wrong with you needing me. I _want_ you to need me. Part of what was hard was that I felt like you didn’t, I felt like you were fine and I was the only one falling apart. I know I was pushing you away and I should’ve been more open with you, but you could’ve told me you needed me to. I would’ve tried harder, I would’ve…” She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them and putting a hand on the side of his face for a moment, looking earnestly into his eyes. “Babe, being there for you isn’t a burden, it’s what I signed up for. I am your _wife._ ”

“Do you still want that?” he whispered as she dropped her hand, afraid of the answer. “To be my wife?” 

Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Were you really serious about counseling? About quitting drinking? Did you mean it when you said you want to try?”

“Yes,” he said earnestly, putting his hands on her waist. “Of course, absolutely. I don’t want to give up on us, Erica. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, if you will.”

She reached up, running her fingers through the hair at his temple. “Then yes, I want to. I will too.”

His heart leaped and he smiled. “Yeah?”

She smiled too, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes.”

“And look, all that stuff, having kids… I don’t care. There are other ways to have a baby, but even if we don’t, Erica, I don’t need it. I just need you, okay? I love you.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“I love you too,” she whispered before closing the distance and kissing him.

After a moment, Tommy broke the kiss. “Does this mean I can come home?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “Yes, yes, please do.” She gave a teary smile. “Watson misses you.”

“Watson does?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded, fighting to keep a straight face. “Mmhmm.”

“Only him?” he leaned closer, so their noses almost brushed. She nodded again, but she was grinning now. “I should come home for the dog?”

“Uh-huh.” She tried and failed to stifle her giggling.

“Fine then.” He pulled away, suddenly, calling, “Watson!”

“Come here!” Erica protested with a laugh, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers again.


	7. Chapter 7

“I missed this,” Tommy murmured as they lay together in their bed, Erica in his arms with her head on his chest as he traced patterns on her back through her pajama shirt. Earlier, she’d come with him to get his stuff from the hotel. The room was paid for through the end of the week, but when he’d asked if she wanted to stay with him there,treat it like a vacation, she’d said that she just wanted him home, and he’d agreed. Sometimes he wondered if this house was the first place, his whole life, that had ever truly felt like home, and it turned out that being back here with Erica was exactly what he needed. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she whispered back. “I’m so glad you came here today.”

“Me too.” As he said it, Erica’s phone dinged on the bedside table. “Leave it,” he murmured as she shifted.

“It might be Mariah, I have a signing coming up,” she said as she rolled over, reaching for her phone. She lay back down next to him before checking the notification.

The text, he saw, was not from her agent, but rather someone with the contact name “Tinder Julian.” Tommy managed to read _“I had a great time the other night”_ before Erica quickly switched off the screen and turned to look up at him, looking guilty.

“Tinder Julian?” he asked quietly.

She visibly cringed. “I’m sorry. Look, I’ll… I’m gonna delete it. I’ll do it right now, watch.” He watched as she unlocked the phone, opened the Tinder app, navigated to settings, and clicked the words “delete account”, then went back to the home screen and deleted the app. As he watched her hit “confirm,” he felt a rush of relief, like letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She set the phone down and turned back to him. “Better?” she asked.

“It’s okay. I get it,” he said with a sigh. “We agreed that we’d see other people.”

She hesitated. “Well, I think technically I kind of told you I was going to, and you just had to go along with it.”

He laughed a little. “Yeah, you did. I was trying to be nice and spin it.”

“Oh, how very magnanimous of you.” Her tone was dry, but she was smiling a little.

He kissed her hair and they were silent for a moment before he quietly asked, “Did you sleep with that guy? ‘Tinder Julian’?” He said the name with a hint of mocking.

He felt her tense a little at his tone. “No. We had a couple drinks and then I came home. He kissed me, once, but that was it.” Tommy just gave a hum, and they lay in tense silence for another long moment before Erica said, “There was… someone else, though.”

“Someone you met on that… app?” he asked, trying to sound calm and nonchalant. Erica nodded. He swallowed hard and then quietly asked, “What was his name?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Patrick.”

“Patrick,” Tommy repeated, and it came out sounding harsh and bitter.

“Please don’t do that,” she said, looking up at him.

His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I get it. It’s okay, I’m not mad.”

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “It was nothing, Tom. Seriously, I… I was angry at you, and I was angry at myself, and I think it was a way for me to punish us both. But it just made me miss you, it just made me sad.”

He nodded. “I get that. Was that the only time?”

She hesitated, then said, “There was a guy I made out with on the dance floor at a club. But we both stayed fully dressed the whole time, and it never went further than that.”

Tommy frowned. “You don’t even like clubs.”

Erica grimaced. “I know. The guy’s suggestion. Tinder is… kind of the worst.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured dryly, and Erica gave a short laugh. He smiled a little and said again, “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Okay.” She reached up a hand and kissed him on the lips before laying down again. After another minute she asked, “Did you? Hook up with other people?”

He took a breath and let it out in a sigh. “I did,” he confirmed.

He felt her tense. “Oh.”

“Erica, you’re the one who–”

“I know,” she cut him off. “I know, I’m not mad, okay? I don’t blame you, it just sucks. The fact that it’s my fault makes it suck even more.” She curled into him, hugging him tighter. “How many?”

“Two,” he said quietly. “The first time was the day you told me you had a date. I was mad, I was drunk, I wanted to get back at you.”

“What was her name?”

He cringed a little. “Uh… Amanda? Amelia? Something like that.”

“You don’t even know her name?” Erica looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“It was… She was some girl in a bar. We were drunk, she said it once…”

She snorted a laugh. “I married such a classy guy.” He tensed a little, and she looked guilty. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean that the way it sounded, I was just surprised. Maybe a little jealous. I don’t like that you can just… snap your fingers and have any woman you want.”

“It didn’t mean anything. It just made me miss you.”

She turned over in his arms, grabbing his left hand. “Did you take it off? The ring?” she asked, entwining their fingers.

“No.”

She looked up at him, incredulous. “Seriously? Even with a wedding ring women throw themselves at you? I thought this was supposed to be some kind of safeguard against that. Jesus, who are these women?”

“I moved it to my other hand,” he clarified.

She rolled her eyes. “At that point wouldn’t it have been easier to just take it off?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’m… what was it you said earlier? A goddamn sentimental idiot?”

She laughed. “Oh, babe, I don’t think wearing your wedding ring while you hook up with some chick you met in a bar really fits the definition of sentimental.”

“Fine, maybe not. But I didn’t want to take it off.” He sighed and spoke softly. “I didn’t want to lose you. I already thought that I was, but taking the ring off would’ve made it feel real.”

She rolled her eyes again, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Goddamn sentimental idiot,” she muttered. He leaned down and kissed her hair. “So that’s your thing, then?” she asked. “Random women in bars? Do you remember the other one’s name, at least?”

He tensed. “Uh… So, yeah, about that…”

She pulled up again to look at him, frowning. “What does _that_ mean?”

“It just means that she… wasn’t exactly a random woman.”

Erica sat up and turned sharply to frown at him. “So it was someone we know? Jesus Christ, tell me it wasn’t Melanie Fisher. You _know_ I hate her.”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “of course not.”

“That drummer chick from that metal band you did the EP for?”

He sat up, shaking his head. “No, Erica, listen, it was–”

“That barista who keeps giving you free espresso?”

“Erica, stop! Stop guessing.” She stopped, and he sighed. “It wasn’t exactly someone you know. It was… Jude.”

She frowned. “Jude Harrison?”

“Yes.”

“Your ex-fiancée Jude Harrison.”

He sighed again. “I don’t know if she was really ever my fiancée. That barely lasted 24 hours before–”

“Do you really think that’s the point, Tom?” Erica snapped. “She was someone you were in love with. It’s not about how long it lasted, it’s about the fact that you wanted to marry her, and now the second things go bad with us you run back to her?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he protested.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, putting up hand. “Jude Harrison lives in London, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, but she–”

Her scowl deepened. “Did you seriously make a transatlantic booty call? And she just came running? What the fuck? Has this girl just been waiting in the wings for your marriage to fail?”

“Erica, stop,” he said firmly. “It was not like that. I hadn’t seen or heard from Jude in over four years. I didn’t even know she was in town until I ran into her.”

“You just… ran into her?” Erica looked skeptical.

“She’s on tour, she was staying at the hotel where I’ve been living the last few weeks, okay? I ran into her in the bar, and I was… not in a good place.”

“So you slept with her. Just the once, or…” He sighed and she saw it. “Oh, no, of course not!” She was getting more and more worked up again. “God, Tom! Why would you–”

“Okay, you really don’t get to be mad about this. You’re the one who–”

“There’s a difference between seeing other people and sleeping with your ex!”

“We weren’t just seeing other people, Erica!” he cried. “We weren’t on a break, you hired a lawyer! You told me you wanted a divorce, there’s a difference! We weren’t separated, we were done. I thought we were done. You told me _repeatedly_ that we were done. And you know what? If it weren’t for Jude, maybe we would be.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It means that she made me see that I wasn’t ready to give up on us. She’s the one who convinced me to keep fighting for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Convinced you… with her vagina.”

“Don’t,” he scolded. “Don’t do that. It wasn’t the sex, it had nothing to do with the sex. She… She knows me, okay? She could tell that I was still in love with you, and she called me on it. I had _given_ _up_ , Erica. Not just on us, on a lot of things. I was self-destructing, and she told me to get my shit together. It was a wake-up call, okay? I needed someone to talk some sense into me, and Jude did that.”

Erica stared at him for a long moment, and he could see her struggling to decide whether or not she should still be angry at him about this. “Okay, but did you really have to sleep with her, Tom?” She looked more sad than angry, now. “Was it… good? The sex? Was it…”

“It was complicated,” he said gently.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” He opened his mouth to deny it and she cut him off. “Please don’t lie to me.”

He leaned in slightly, looking her earnestly in the eyes. “No,” he enunciated firmly, “I don’t.”

“Really?” she asked quietly.

“Really,” he assured her. She still looked doubtful, so he admitted, “Seeing her again, it was… complicated, at first.”

“Complicated,” she repeated. “You know, you say that word a lot, Tom, but I don’t know what it _means_.”

He sighed, but elaborated. “We have kind of an intense history, and I was in a really bad place when I ran into her, and maybe I thought that if anyone was going to let me forget about the fact that I was losing you, it would be Jude. Because you’re right, I did love her, and there was a time when I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together, so I guess I thought that… if I couldn’t have you, maybe she’d be the next best thing.” Erica drew a sharp breath, and Tommy continued quickly. “But I was wrong. That was unfair to you, and to her.”

“But you’re not still…”

“I have history with her, and I have a lot of respect for her, but no, I don’t still have feelings for Jude. Neither of us is the same person we were when we were together, and even if we were, there’s a lot of good reasons she left me.”

“So you’re telling me that you sleeping with your ex saved our marriage?” Erica asked. She sounded sarcastic, but not particularly angry.

Tommy shook his head. “No. I think we’re both gonna have to do a lot of work to do that.”

She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I’m ready to try, okay?” He reached out, putting a hand on her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb. “We’re worth it,” he murmured. “Look, I’m sorry, about Jude, about a lot of things. There’s a lot of stuff I’d do differently if I had it to do over, you know?”

“I know,” Erica said again. “I know, me too.” She took a deep breath, then gave a little smile. “Alright. Okay. I guess I have to… be better about letting things go, or whatever, so if she’s the one who got us back here, got us talking and giving us another chance then… I guess I’m glad. I’m just glad you’re home, no matter how you got here.”

He smiled. “Yeah, me too.” He looked at her for a long moment, drinking her in before saying, “Erica, I love you so much.”

A grin spread slowly across her face. “I love you too.” She reached out and pulled his face to hers. Before she kissed him, she whispered, “You sweet sentimental bastard.”

… .... ... .... …

“Harrison!” Mitch exclaimed as Jude walked into the bar and he caught sight of her. “You made it!”

“‘Course I did!” she laughed, walking up to Mitch, who gave her a one-armed hug. “Sorry I’ve been kind of AWOL, guys,” she said to the circle of her friends.

“You have been, haven’t you?” Tariq, her guitarist, observed. “You been under the weather or something?”

Mitch snorted. “She’s been under something.” Jude shoved him and he laughed.

“Oh, grow _up_ , Mitchell,” Devi rolled her eyes. “Not her fault she’s all gorgeous and irresistible.”

“Ah, she knows I worship at the shrine of her riffs, don’t ya, Harrison?”

Jude smiled. “You’d better.”

“Where have you been dashing off to post-rehearsal these last few days? Catching up with hometown friends?” asked her bassist, Carys, as she handed Jude a beer.

“Thanks,” Jude said as she took the bottle from her. “And, kind of… One friend, mostly. It’s a long story.”

“Oooo.” Carys waggled her eyebrows. “Well, I’m gonna want details later, obviously, but either way, we missed you.”

“Missed you guys too,” Jude said with a smile. “By the way, you _killed_ it tonight on ‘Calling’. I mean seriously, that was sonic perfection, I died and went to musical heaven for a minute.”

Carys belted out a line from Brenda Carlisle’s “Heaven is a Place on Earth” which made Mitch laugh hard enough that beer came out his nose. While he groaned, holding his face, everyone else cracked up. As Jude looked around at them, she found herself grinning so hard it made her face hurt. The past few days with Tommy, there had been some good moments, and she didn’t exactly regret any of it, but it also felt sort of like a weird, intense dream. As she relaxed into the sounds of her friends’ laughter, she felt like she was finally back in her own life, and the feeling came with a rush of peace and relief.

As she was thinking that, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. There was a message from Tommy, a picture. When she opened it, she saw a screenshot of an Instagram post from user @TheEricaBennet. The photo was of a woman’s hand held out next to a hand Jude recognized as Tommy’s. The light glinted off the gold band on Tommy’s finger and the sparkling diamond on the hand she knew must be Erica’s. The caption read, “For better or worse #tildeathorwhatever #sentimentalidiots.” Another text from Tommy arrived, this one saying, _“Thank you.”_

Jude smiled and texted back, _“Way to go Quincy”_ before putting her phone back in her pocket and turning back to her friends again.


End file.
